Harry Potter and the Elements of Nature
by wulfeyez
Summary: As the second war with the Dark Lord begins, Harry Potter soon to enter his 6th year at Hogwarts, finds himself on a journey of self-discovery, sacrifice, and mystery.
1. Restless Night

**Chapter 1. Restless Night**

_** Crack! WOOSH! **  
_

_  
_In the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive was a boy who had been desperately trying to go to sleep. Suddenly, he flew off his bed with astounding speed only to stop short and gape at the source of the noise that disturbed his light slumber. In the middle of the room was a swirling crimson and gold fireball that illuminated the dark, moonless night. Before he could react further, however, a familiar phoenix emerged out of the centre of the fireball.

"Fawkes! What on earth are you doing here?" he asked quietly, trying not to disturb his aunt and uncle down the hall. The mythological bird soared once around the room before landing on the end of the boy's bed, trilling a single comforting note of welcome. The boy picked up his round, wire-framed glasses off the night table, and switched on the lamp next to his bed. As he walked quickly over to the bird, he noticed a parchment envelope attached to its leg. He relieved the large, beautiful bird of its burden, absentmindedly stroking it while he studied the note. It was simply addressed 'Harry' in his headmaster's familiar loopy, cursive writing.

Harry abandoned petting Fawkes, for he was truly curious as to why Dumbledore would be writing him at this late hour. He hadn't had more than a hello from anyone over the past three weeks, so it was with that in mind that he turned over the parchment envelope and broke Dumbledore's seal.

**_Harry,_**

**_I am sorry to disturb you at such a late hour. However, we have just finished putting together the final plans for your removal from your relatives' care. The distressing events last month at the Ministry of Magic have undergone much scrutiny as of late amongst our group. While you did an excellent job, we feel that you should receive more advanced training over the summer to help boost your skills._**

**_With Voldemort's public outing last month, it is only a matter of time before he once again establishes his reign of terror over our world. While your protection is of utmost importance, so, too, is your ability to defend yourself properly._**

**_Mistress Dreia McKinnon will be by in the morning to collect you to begin your training. She is a young, bright, and very capable witch. She will be moving you to a secure location for the next week while you train with her._**

**_Only a few key members of the Order know that you will be taken a week early, so I advise you to please try to keep this to yourself.  
_**

_**Best Regards,  
**_

**_Albus Dumbledore._******

Harry tried hard to suppress the anger building in the pit of his stomach as he refolded the note. On the one hand, Dumbledore still insisted on meddling with his life, as Harry now realized he had done on so many other occasions, from the fact that he was stuck in the house every summer, to the fact that he had kept the real reason his parents had died when he was a mere toddler hidden. On the other hand, he was getting out of the house five weeks earlier than he had anticipated, and from the sounds of it, somehow he would be able to use, or at least learn about, magic.

The latter weighing much more heavily than the former, he decided that he would let the old coot meddle all he wanted if it meant that he could get out of the damnable house and away from his troublesome relatives.

Harry plopped down again on his bed, thanking the phoenix quietly and asking it to pass along that he would be ready. Fawkes trilled one final note before he was gone in a whirlwind of fire and feathers.

Staring at the ceiling, Harry started feeling a bit depressed again. Since coming to his relatives' for the summer, he had worked hard to avoid thinking about, or even acknowledging the events that transpired that night in the Department of Mysteries as well as what had happened later that morning in the Headmaster's office.

Now, with such blatant reference in the letter from Dumbledore, those events again crossed his mind. So it was with a heavy heart and an even heavier weight upon his shoulders that he turned over, removed his glasses, switched off the lamp and tried desperately to forget it all and go to sleep. Tomorrow, it seemed, would be a busy day.

* * *

"_Bella," said a high, cold voice. "What news from our friends?"_

_A pale, darkbeautied witch, __wearing the garb of a Death Eater grovelled, struggling to kiss the bottom of the rich, black robes of the man with the high, cruel voice._

"_Master," she whispered, still not daring to look him in the eye. "We've word that the guards have been taken care of. Azkaban is free to take back your faithful, my lord."_

_"Faithful indeed," he sneered. Lashing out against his servant, he kicked her across the room with strength seemingly not possible from one so thin and frail. "Had they been faithful, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?"_

_"Y..yes Master", she sniffed, picking herself off the floor, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth._

_"Wormtail, Bella, come. We will go and gather up the 'faithful' as well as any others who wish to join our cause," he hissed, holding out a silver cup for them to take hold of. A small podgy__ man with a pointed nose crept out of the shadows. He and the witch walked cautiously toward Lord Voldemort, touching the cup held out of them by long, white, paper-thin fingers._

_A whispered word, a tug behind the navel, and whirl of wind and colour, and the three were transported to the Dungeon Master's chambers on the Isle of Azkaban._

_The room itself was large, stone and cold. A small, green, dying fire was alight at the end of the richly decorated room. A four-poster bed with purple dressings and messed up sheets lay to the right. Across from the bed was a large oak desk, strewn with paper, and a high-back chair set before a large, open window overlooking the sea._

_The Dungeon Master himself, however, lay at the feet of the three, clearly having struggled for his life as his soul was drained out of his body by the Dementor's kiss._

_  
"They've done well," Voldemort said triumphantly as he stepped around the Dungeon Master's body. "We must make haste. No time to revel in this beautiful misery. The Aurors have been alerted, I see," he said, glancing at the dying green embers of the fire at the end of the room. "We've no time to deal with them."_

_"Wormtail," he commanded, turning to his servants, "go and retrieve the marked. Bella, go and see if there are any others who wish to join us. Dispose of the rest. Meet me in here in five minutes. Go."_

_"Yes, Master," they echoed, bowing slightly before quickly exiting through the door behind them._

_Voldemort took a brief moment to survey his surroundings. He spotted a small mirror above a washbasin next the bed. He walked slowly, methodically over to it and looked into the mirror with fiery red eyes._

_"This war has begun, Mr. Potter," he said casually into the mirror. "And I _will_ win."_

_

* * *

_

Hundreds of miles away, Harry Potter awoke screaming into the night, his scar ablaze and his stomach churning. He leaned over the bed to be sick. When he was done, he rolled back onto the bed, still clutching his scar and panting heavily. As another wave of pain threatened to take him, he passed out over the shouts of his Uncle, only to forget all of it the very next morning.

* * *

_Dawn. The light from the east had risen on that Midsummer's day as it had for as long as the sun and the earth existed; the longest day of the year. The girl stood with her feet apart and her hands raised high above her head as she welcomed the sun from the centre of the giants' dance, encircled by her brethren. White robes billowed around her as the warm summer breeze drifted over her body. All eyes were on the sun as it focused through the stone pillars and lintels. The power was deafening. The girl could feel the power filling the circle. She could see it, she could smell it, and she could taste it. It poured into every molecule of her body. She could feel her brothers fill with the light without looking. She didn't have to see it. She sense it. They were connected. They were one._

_It was time. It was time to fulfil the purpose they had set for the special rite. Now focusing, she could feel the other do the same. She slipped back into the circle among her family and focused the light on the single shred of wood on the altar. The wood had been carefully harvested with a complex, intense, and time consuming ritual by her forefathers. This wood was the only remaining piece from the world tree, which had been left to the Druids through the last 1000 years__. The light that filled them slowly trickled to their navels and they moved the energy into place, gathering in shiny orbs._

_It was intense. The collective energy was nudging itself to be free of her body, but she could not let go. Not until it was done. The transformation of this raw and collective power had a purpose. She reached within her very soul and pulled out the torch that had been burning for the last year. She poured the tears and the breath she carried for the boy into the orb. She added the power, her power, some of her very own life force into the orb and moulded it. Moulded it with protection, with faith, with hope, with love. She moulded it with life._

_With the thrill and ache of the power now quickening in her womb, she felt her brothers complete their transformation. She knew it had come. One last breath, and with every ounce of her being, she reached out beyond herself and pushed the orb into the wood. Thirteen streams of bright white light focused from her solar plexus to the wood. It rose swiftly into the air, above the giants' dance, still connected to them by the light. Forcefully, she expelled the last of the remaining energy out of her body and into the wood. Her stream ceased, just as others did the same. The wood glowed as brightly as the moon in its most pregnant state._

_The wood fell. It dove toward the altar, gravity now taking its toll. But before it reached its destination, the girl pulled herself out of her ardent wonder at the sight before her. She spoke. Her deep, clear voice filled Stonehenge with the words of power that would bless this sacred act. "Harry Potter, we welcome you among us and will protect you as you do us."_

_The sliver of wood hit the altar. A force no one expected ripped itself through the air, engulfing the Druids at a nuclear speed, blowing the hood of their robes onto their shoulders._

_It was done. The girl lifted her head to survey her brothers at the aftermath of the ritual. All were smiling and bursting with excitement. They had done it. And she had led them._

_Something caught her eye. Looking toward the now properly rising sun, she felt all the breath escape her lungs at the sight she alone was bearing witness to. Strolling through the arches of the line of power was a tall, slender man. He bore long billowing robes of the finest white linen, embroidered with carefully needled stars and moons. His hat perched perfectly on his withered and pale brow; he surveyed the circle through half moon spectacles, a twinkle in his blue eyes and smile on his lips._

_He'd arrived._

_

* * *

_

A/N I own nothing, JK's the Goddess with the copyrights. Please Review!


	2. Breakfast with the Dursleys

**Chapter 2. Breakfast with the Dursleys**

Harry woke up slowly the next morning in the red-orange and pale blue predawn hour with a smile upon his face. If he stopped to think about it long enough, he would have realized that the dream that caused this smile itself was not something so extraordinary. Interesting maybe, but certainly not enough to warrant the euphoria he felt this morning. He remembered people dressed in white robes in a large stone circle, a young witch calling out his name.

Still, smile he did as he let out a soft sigh. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. Winning the Quidditch cup didn't even compare to the way he felt after finally having had a proper night's sleep. He would have liked nothing more than to stay here all day instead of the morning routine that he'd worked out with Dudley over the past few weeks. Harry was in such a state, that he was only vaguely aware of someone stroking the messy black hair on top of his head through his sleep-induced ecstasy.

"You look like you've slept well. Did you have pleasant dreams" a soft, deep female voice asked.

"Yea" he replied sleepily. "I can't remember the last time I felt this way. I just wish I could stay here all day."

"Well sleepy-head, I am sorry to be the one to inform you but you must get up. There is a lot to do today and little time to do it in. Sorry to the bearer of bad news when you've had such a good night's sleep" the female voice said softly.

"But, can't I just rest awhile, please" Harry pleaded. "I haven't felt this good in so long..."

There was a small little laugh, and the voice said"As long as you are with me, I can promise you nothing less than this feeling when you wake up... But you must get up and face the day. Ok" questioned the voice.

"Yea, that'd be great, in fact I..."

Suddenly Harry's eyes snapped open and he bolted from the bed. He snatched his wand and his glasses off the bedside table, whipping around to face the source of the voice. Three things had just registered to his otherwise groggy brain. One, he was sleeping with his head in someone's lap. Two, that someone was making conversation with him. And three, he had no idea who this person was.

Harry looked to the top of his bed as his heart pounded roughly in his chest at whom had so thoroughly startled him into action. Smiling at him, with a look of pure amusement was the young dark haired witch from his dream.

He stared dumbly at her for a moment, his jaw slack, trying to determine what exactly was going on. He failed miserable though, as he was still half asleep and flabbergasted that his dreams had suddenly become reality. Instead, he gathered what little of his composure he had left and asked"Who are you"

"Dreia" she replied simply. "And I was helping you sleep. You snore something awful, you know that? I would have had an easier time trying to rest around a hibernating bear. Must have been awhile since the last time you've slept well" she said with a soft smile.

"What do you want" he asked, still trying to focus, still trying to figure out what was going on.

"Do you honestly expect to have a Death Eater singing to you, and giving you soft dreams" she asked, still amused. When Harry didn't answer right away she asked"Didn't Dumbledore tell you I would be here to take you away from all this ...this... grandeur" She waved her arms melodramatically looking around the small room laughing to herself. "I am one of your trainers. If you keep ending up duelling with Voldemort, then you should learn how to do it properly."

_'The letter, Fawkes, right,'_ he remembered from the night before, the fog finally lifting. At the mention of Dumbledore's letter, he relaxed a little. He still had his wand trained on her though, not fully trusting the situation. "Er... Yea. He may have mentioned it."

"Well good. I'd hate to have come all this way for nothing" she said scooting toward the edge of the bed, disregarding his stance completely. "It's rather smart of you not to put your wand down, by the way. Although by the time I am through with you, you won't need it" she finished offhandedly.

Harry frowned. "Why wouldn't I need it" he asked confused.

"I can't answer that right now, but I promise too later on" she assured him. "For now, I would like you to take a take a small leap of faith and put your trust in me. I am going to go downstairs to start breakfast. I hate travelling on an empty stomach."

Without another word, Dreia stood up and made her way toward the door.

"Wait" Harry hissed, beckoning her back, thinking of his relatives"You can't just go barging down there. My Aunt and Uncle don't like our kind, and worst of all, me or anyone having anything to do with me."

Dreia stop and placed her hand on the door and concentrated for a moment. Visibly coming to a conclusion, she turned around to face Harry fully. "About the Dursleys, I sincerely doubt they would be upset if one of Harry's muggle friends came to cook a large breakfast for him and the entire family for an early birthday gift, seeing as though she'll be spending the next two weeks in Edinburgh with her Uncle" she replied with a smile. "I'll take care of them, don't worry" she assured him, shrugging her slender shoulders.

"We've got to get moving, so hurry up, take shower, and here..." she waved her hand once and a small crimson paper wrapped box appeared on the foot of his bed. "Change into those. Part of my birthday gift to you. Can't have you hiding underneath a shirt four sizes too big, now can we" she said with an appreciative glance at his naked chest. "Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes for breakfast." And with that she turned, opened the door, walked out into the hall and closed the door firmly behind her.

Harry stared at the closed bedroom door for a moment, processing what had just happened. It wasn't unusual for wizards to be in his summer residence, and it wasn't unusual for it to be out of the ordinary when they appeared. But never the less, it still surprised him when it happened.

But sending someone alone? That was defiantly different than in years past. He honestly expected after reading the note last night, that this Dreia McKinnon would show up with more of an entourage like he had last year. With Voldemort out in the open now, he figured his security detail would be tighter than ever.

Harry figured Dumbledore must have a considerable amount of trust in her if he was willing to send her by herself to collect him_. 'Of course, Dumbledore also trusted that slimy git, Snape,'_ he reasoned with himself. But again, he didn't get that odd prickling sensation he normally got at the nape of his neck when he was around someone with less than positive objectives. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad "taking a small leap of faith."

With the smell of bacon already wafting under the door, he decided that this was just one more adventure, and he would get away from the Dursleys for a while. He smiled, shook his head and headed for the shower.

After a shower and a shave, Harry was taking stock of himself in the bathroom mirror as he combed his locks of stubborn raven hair.

He had grown an inch or two in the last year, putting some height on his thin frame finally. But it wasn't quite as thin this year, he noticed.

When he came home that first week back from Hogwarts he asked Dudley if he could work out with him in the home gym uncle Vernon had erected for Dudley in the shed in the back garden. Much to his surprise, Dudley agreed. Only under the condition if Harry agreed to spar with him once day. "I have to keep in shape if I want to stay inter-school boxing champion you know." Harry, much to Dudley's surprise had agreed. Only because he felt if he were active in someway, even if it were getting the snot beat out of him, it would be worth the price not to sit in his bedroom dwelling on the events of the past month. He could put all his effort into taking out his aggression, frustration and guilt on the cold, unforgiving metal equipment.

In the mirror, he could see that his torso was starting to fill out a bit. A year filling up on wonderful house elf cooking had finally put some meat on his bones, if only a little. His arms were no longer thin and fragile. They were full and had little curves to them. His chest was starting to take shape and even his stomach was showing signs that there might be some muscle development under there somewhere. The treadmill he was using was putting some definition to his thighs and calves. He would be in good shape for the start of the Quidditch season next year, if of course, the ban were lifted.

He also noticed that for the first time in his life, his hair was not the same messy length it always was. It had grown suddenly overnight one night after a particularly bad dream about Sirius. He woke up that morning with hair long enough to touch the top of the collars of all his t-shirts. Aunt Petunia had made a fuss about it in the beginning, asking him to cut it repeatedly. But, as luck would have it, Mad-Eye Moody stuck his head in the back door one day after hearing the argument about it for the fourth time. He glared at her with both eyes, magical and other wise, and told her that it was perfectly acceptable to have hair that length at Harry's age, and he didn't want to hear another word about it. Aunt Petunia had been so upset; she shrieked, raced up the stairs into her room and had locked the door until Vernon came home. Even then, it had taken some stern coaxing and careful begging to get her to come out.

He decided that he liked the length, wishing it would grow just a bit longer so he could sufficiently stuff it into a ponytail like Bill Weasley's. It was a touch of the rebellious, and reminded him of Sirius. He decided he would keep the longer length as a sort of tribute to his late Godfather.

Decidedly much happier and confident with his appearance than ever before, he smiled, grabbed a towel and made for his room.

Back in his room, he decided to see what this Dreia had given him for his birthday. Getting birthday gifts from his friends was one thing, but getting gifts from people he didn't know was definitely new. He carefully tore off the paper and opened the box, widening his eyes in surprise.

Inside contained a white, crisp linen shirt, a pair of blue jeans and pair of shiny, black boots that were some sort of leather material. All of which looked very comfortable, and looked as thought they would fit him well.

Decidedly very happy with his early birthday gift, he dressed quickly in his new things, and headed downstairs to breakfast.

He was almost at the kitchen door when he stopped his entrance abruptly, eavesdropping on the snippets of conversation he could hear from within.

"...Mrs. Dursley. Harry and I met at his school this past spring. I was on an exchange program. I want to become a doctor, you know. His school offers a course to muggles like you and I in how to identify... Not normal injuries, if you know what I mean. Madam Pomfrey, the school's Healer, was always going on about Harry and how he always ends up in the hospital wing." Dreia laughed. "She calls him her four star patient. She says if it were not for him, she might not have the position!

"So, being that I wanted someone to study for a report I was giving, I sought him out. He agreed to help me, be my guinea pig, so to speak. And the more we talked and the more I got to know him, I really liked him. It was wonderful hearing all the adventures he's been on in school. It's really incredible the things he's done, Mrs. Dursley. You must be so proud of him! We've been friends ever since."

There was a noticeable silence coming from kitchen. Harry just stood there in total shock. No one had ever told his relatives how much they thought of Harry. No one had ever mentioned in their presence, words like 'proud' and 'Harry' in the in same breath before. No less coming from a 'muggle' who was Harry's 'friend.'

Harry quietly laughed to himself. _'I wonder what Aunt Petunia's reaction to that will be.'_

So it was with even more surprise when Aunt Petunia spoke next. "Yes, we would be proud. Except, he never really tells us what goes on in that... that school of his. Why so many injuries" she inquired.

"Oh! Well' he's faced Voldemort at least four times that I know of." There was an audible gasp coming from Aunt Petunia. "I know it's terrible. Who would have thought Harry could be the one to hold his own against him? Of course' there are the various Quidditch injuries, as well. I never got to see him play... But from what I am told, he's an excellent seeker. Best in a century they say."

"Well" Aunt Petunia said in a rather squeaky voice"If all that's true, then we should be proud of him. I'll just have to sit down with him and ask him what all this... this... Voldemort nonsense is about. He never mentions that..."

"Well I guess he wouldn't. He's incredibly humble and modest, you know. He really doesn't like getting praise for the things he's done. Good upbringing, I'd say. I had to ask his friends a lot of things to fill in all the blanks."

"Well maybe you and I can sit down for a chat about it over tea one day, Dreia. I really would like to hear what my nephew is up too."

Harry, deciding it best to end their conversation right then and there, pushed open the kitchen door.

Aunt Petunia was sitting at the kitchen table in her dressing gown, sipping a cup of coffee, wearing a contemplative look on her face. Dreia was standing in front of four bubbling pots on the stove, buttering some toast, smiling. There were bagels and cream cheese already sitting on the table and various plates filled with different breakfast accompaniments surrounding. Dreia looked up from her toast and ran over to Harry.

"Oh Harry, you do look just smashing! I thought you'd like the gift. I'm glad you found it. I snuck it up there while you were showering. I hope you don't mind? Doesn't he look handsome, Mrs. Dursley" Dreia was positively beaming at him and turning to Aunt Petunia for her approval.

Aunt Petunia recovered quickly from the shocked look on her face and said"Yes you do... Er... look very nice. Interesting attire. You have good taste, Dreia."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dursley." Turning back to Harry she asked"Are you going to say anything Harry" Dreia questioned.

"Thank you" he said sincerely. "What's all this? You said in your note to expect a surprise in the kitchen, but I didn't expect all this" he said figuring it best to play along. It was obvious everyone there was. He was sure Aunt Petunia would never have had said those things otherwise.

"I figured you would enjoy it. Oh, I have so many things planned for today! I just thought a good breakfast would be a good idea."

Harry laughed. "You always did go a little over board... Dreia" he said before sitting down in his usual spot at the table.

Dreia wandered over to the coffee pot to pour a cup. "Well, I just couldn't help myself. Besides, I am sure your Aunt is enjoying a day off from the cooking and cleaning from breakfast, right Mrs. Dursley"

Aunt Petunia nearly choked on her coffee, but recovered quickly and said"Yes, thank you dear. This is such a nice thing for you to do, and for...Harry."

Harry really couldn't believe his ears. 'Nice' and 'Harry' were again words that he never thought would be uttered in the Dursley household in the same sentence even if, he was positive, they weren't true.

_'Who is this girl? How is it that she has Aunt Petunia wrapped around her finger so soon?' _he wondered_. 'We'll just see what Vernon and Dudley say when they arrive for breakfast.'_

The next fifteen minutes rolled by in a flurry of pots, pans, and talk. Dreia had told Aunt Petunia all about her time at her school, what she was studying and how they planned on spending the day today. Although Harry knew it was a load of rubbish, he stilled liked to listen to her talk. There was something about her that made him-and much to his surprise, Aunt Petunia- feel completely at ease.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley finally arrived downstairs, as if on cue when the last dish was set on the already full table.

"Petunia, what's all this? Is there a special occasion I've missed" Vernon said, not noticing Dreia yet.

"Oh no dear, this is all Dreia's doing. Harry's friend here" she said, indicating to Dreia over by the stove. "She's not going to be here for his birthday so she wanted to do something nice for him today. Isn't that... " Aunt Petunia strained to say the next word"sweet"

Uncle Vernon and Dudley turned their gaze on to Dreia. Dudley's eyes almost bugged out of his head, and his jaw dropped, staring unabashed at the decent-looking young women before him. Uncle Vernon did the same, but more than likely it was because one of Harry's friends was in his house.

"You're not one of... One of... THOSE people are you" he demanded to know. "I will not' have _that sort_..."

Dreia cut him off raising her hand for silence, the corners of her mouth rising slightly. "No, Mr. Dursley. I am ...normal just like you are. I met Harry on an exchange program to his school. Please" she indicated to his seat. "Sit down, Mr. Dursley and enjoy some breakfast."

Harry could barely contain himself. Dreia was not only cutting his Uncle off but telling what to do as well. What's more is that he was following with a smile on his face no less!

Dudley was still standing there looking like a fish out of water. More like a killer whale with the sheer size of him. Aunt Petunia tried to tug at his sleeve to get his attention, but it was to no avail. Dudley just stood there.

"Duddykins" Aunt Petunia said in a quiet warning whisper. "Don't you think you should sit down? It's not polite to gawk."

Harry was rolling with laughter on the inside. He couldn't believe the spectacle his cousin was making of himself. A brief glance at Dreia told him that while she was politely busying herself with cutlery, she felt the same.

After a few moments, it was obvious that Aunt Petunia's proddings and attempts to get him to sit down were getting her nowhere. Dreia, deciding to take pity on him said"Dudley, Harry has told me that you are the inter-school boxing champion for Smeltings, right? I figured if that were the case' you would be training hard this summer and looking out for you weight' right" Dudley nodded dumbly, but did not move otherwise. "Well on the table on the side of the dish of bacon, I have cooked up some turkey bacon for you, there is some whole wheat toast and some strawberry preserves on the table, as well as some other low fat things. But eat what ever you would like, ok"

Dudley nodded in the affirmative again and seemed to find that his legs did in fact work and sat down at the table. Aunt Petunia reached out a thin, bony finger and shut his jaw closed with snap.

Dishes were passed back and forth around the table, as large amounts of food were consumed. Harry thought to himself as he slid some eggs into his mouth that Dreia could give the house elves and Mrs. Weasley a run for their money. All was silent at the table while Harry, Dreia and the Dursleys ate with relish. Looking over at Dreia's plate, he was amazed at just how much food was piled there. Most girls he knew didn't eat very much, but Dreia was packing it away as well as Dudley. Dreia noticed his gaze, and gave him a wink, turning back to her plate.

As the last remains of the scrumptious breakfast were consumed, Uncle Vernon decided it was a good time to question the young lady who had properly filled his belly.

"So, Dreia? You say you met the bo... Er... _Harry_ on an exchange program, did you say? What sort of exchange program? Our kind doesn't normally mix with his sort, do they"

Dreia looked up at him from her properly cleaned plate, her eyes full of mirth. "I'm hoping one day to become a Doctor, Mr. Dursley. Harry's school offers... Normal people like you and I to train with the school healer to recognize... Not normal injuries..."

Dreia went on to explain to the rest of the Dursleys how she and Harry 'met', and how they become friends. Aunt Petunia looked a little less sceptical since the re-telling of the story that seemed so sincere. Harry watched the interactions of his relatives with this mystery girl. How she had managed to completely change his world in just a half an hour's time was beyond him, even if it was all an act. He had a feeling today was going to be filled with surprises.

Coming back from his musings, Dudley had asked him something. "Sorry Dudley, what did you say"

Dudley gave him a snide smirk. "You've been doing that a lot cousin... I asked if you were going to take your usual beating today before you went off with Dreia."

Normally Harry would have been incensed. Comments like this from his relatives were made for it. But today was a different day and Harry merely laughed at Dudley's question. He knew he was trying to "be a man" in front of Dreia. He made to say as much, but Dreia beat him to it.

"I'm afraid there won't be time for that today, Dudley. I have a few more plans for Harry, and it will take most of the day. You can get back to your sparring tomorrow. I know he needs it."

Dreia gave him a quick look that said both 'I'm sorry' and 'don't listen to him' in the same instance.

Harry shrugged it off. He knew this was an act.

"Now see here, Miss" Uncle Vernon started. He had that look on his face he wore when he knew he was going to swipe something important to Harry away. Harry was starting to worry this was not going to be so easy. "The boy has a lot of work in the garden to get done today, and we can't have him running off to god knows where. Things don't work like that in my home."

_'No, things don't work like that in your home when it comes to me you git!' _Harry thought angrily. Why couldn't they just give him some peace?

Dreia quickly intervened. "Oh please, Mr. Dursley? I have to go out of town tomorrow to visit my Uncle in Edinburgh and I won't get another chance before school starts up again. I was so looking forward to it." She gave him the look a puppy dog gives its master when begging for a bone.

Harry was astounded. He watched as his Uncle's face turned many shades of purple and blue. You could see the inner cogs of his brain trying to figure some way to deny Harry the token of friendship Dreia was offering with out offending the girl, but could find none. Under the look she was giving him, he seemed to drain, the purple and blue leaving in streaks down his face on to his non-existent neck, and under the collar of his shirt leaving a white but pleasant expression in its stead. For some reason, his desire to make the girl happywon out over any desire he had to make Harry miserable. If Harry hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it possible. _'Magic?'_

"Well I suppose so. But you'll have to make up for it doubly hard tomorrow boy" Uncle Vernon said turning to glare at Harry. "I don't want the yard going wild, making the neighbours talk."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon" Harry said with the least amount of venom possible. He knew he would be out of here one way or another but fighting with his Uncle was always a bad idea.

"Tell me about this Uncle of yours, Dreia. Lives in Edinburgh, you say" Uncle Vernon asked, turning his attention back to Dreia.

"Only in the summer" she replied. "He has a problem with the heat here in southern England. He's a homebuilder."

"Homebuilder? I know quite a few of them. I own a drill shop. What's his name"

"He's a Mason; part of Mason builders. Jeremy Mason" Dreia said, not missing a beat. "Have you had dealings with him"

Uncle Vernon paled. He did indeed have dealings with the Masons. It was only 3 years ago that he lost a very lucrative contract to them due to a certain house elf, a large pudding and some owls. Harry knew full well he knew who Mr. Mason was. But how did Dreia?

Aunt Petunia coughed, brining Uncle Vernon back to his senses. "Uh... Why yes... I mean no... We never got the pleasure of doing business with him" he said with a look to kill directed at Harry. "I hope to change that in the future though" he said with a pleading glint eye. Uncle Vernon's business has not been doing very well in recent months. A contract like the ones the Masons could offer would bring his shop around full swing.

"Then I shall put in a good word for you, Mr. Dursley" she said with a smile. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have sworn it was genuine.

"Well, since we are all finished, why don't you all go on about your day and Harry and I will clean up before we go" Dreia asked the room at large. Uncle Vernon was the first to stand, as he needed to make his way to work. He shook Dreia's hand politely and warned her to have Harry home before curfew and walked out the door, briefcase and hat in hand. Aunt Petunia thanked Dreia for breakfast and asked her to be careful with the dishes, before she headed to the bedroom to get started for the day. Dudley said not a word as he exited the back door into the garden for his morning ritual.

"Its time to get started, Harry; I have a lot to tell you. Let's get going, shall we"

Harry made to start washing the dishes, but Dreia grabbed his elbow, sending a tingling sensation up and down his body. She looked at him with mischief in her eyes. "I may have made breakfast in a non-magical fashion, but I certainly don't plan on cleaning up that way" She raised her hand, gave a couple of quick flicks and everything was sparkling, and unnaturally clean. Just the way Aunt Petunia liked it. With another flick, everything was put away nice and neat.

"How did you..."

"Questions and answers later. Race you to your room" She twirled on the spot and was gone in a whirl of hair and wind.

_'How does she do that?'_ he wondered amazed. He remembered Dumbledore doing something like that in the Ministry of Magic; he would have been amazed then, but he was to busy concentrating on staying alive.

Reality caught back up with him quickly. He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling above him and said"Hey! You have an unfair advantage"

He opened the kitchen door and raced quickly upstairs to his room.

Opening the door, he looked as Dreia was shutting the lid to his trunk. Hedwig was dozing peacefully in her properly cleaned cage. The bed was made and the room cleaned of all debris. Even the calendar he used to mark off the days of his imprisonment was gone.

Impressed, Harry turned to Dreia as she said"I think I have everything packed, ready to go. Is there anything else you can think of" she asked.

Harry shook his head again amazed and thought about it. "Did you get the stuff under the floor"

Dreia raised an eyebrow, which Harry took for a no. Smiling, he reached down to the floor, found the groove in the board and pried it up. He took out the Marauders Map, his invisibility cloak and the photo album Hagrid had given him all those years ago. Placing them carefully in his trunk, he closed the lid with a satisfying thunk.

Taking a quick look around the room for anything else she may have missed, he looked at her quizzically. "How is it going to be explained to the Dursleys that I'm gone for the rest of the summer? And how are we getting to where ever we are going? Where are we going" he added as an after thought.

"Ah, one question I can answer, and two I can't until we get there. Curious thing, aren't you? Have you ever apparated before"

Harry shook his head. "Once, but it was completely by accident. I was being chased by... " Harry had a hard time admitting this in front of a stranger. "...some school yard bullies" he completed dully.

"I've grown up with nothing but boys. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm surprised actually. You've faced the biggest bully of all time and still you're ashamed of that" Dreia shook her head and smiled. "You shouldn't be."

"Ok, so you know how it goes" she continued. "First you're here, and then you're there. It's as simple as that really. Just concentrate on being there and you will be. I am going to hold onto you to pick up any slack, just in case you don't get all the way there. We'll be travelling pretty far."

"I'm going to give you a vision of where we are going. See yourself there, with all your body parts and preferable your clothing and trunk. I will hold your owl. It's a lot of work to transport live objects at such a great distance."

"Grab your truck and close your eyes, Harry. Think of a blank, black screen and relax."

Harry, not believing he was actually about to do what he was about to do, closed his eyes. As Dreia had instructed, he pictured in his mind's eye a great blank, black screen. Suddenly his forehead felt warm, and he was looking out at a beautiful green summer meadow in the middle of a rich valley. To his right, there were vast blue mountains, taller than he had ever seen in his entire life. A log cabin stood below the view of the mountain overlooking the meadow. It had two floors and porch that wrapped around it. Various herbs and spices adorned hanging baskets on the porch. A small garden alive with vegetables was to the left of the porch. An old truck of some sort was parked in the driveway. On top of the hill to the right was a ring of stones. An orchard grew around another small hill next to it. There were great beasts Harry didn't recognize grazing peacefully in the meadow. The cloudless sky above was a perfect periwinkle blue. It was a picture perfect view.

Time seemed to speed up as Harry watched the meadow in the valley. Soon he was gazing upon how this piece of Nirvana looked at night, the stars shown a spectacular display of light.

From some distant corner of his mind he felt rather than heard Dreia speak. "See yourself there, Harry. Picture yourself in the clothing you are wearing now, with your trunk beside you. See me there with you, holding onto your owl, with my palm upon your forehead and your eyes closed."

Harry did as he was asked. He saw himself in the middle of the meadow exactly as Dreia described.

All of a sudden, he felt as though he was being lifted quickly by a large gust of wind and felt a slight jolt in his stomach. He wanted to open his eyes but knew on instinct if he did, he would regret it. Instead, he kept the vision before him steady. He could feel his hair whipping about his head, his clothing clung to his body, while the gust of wind swirled around his body. It soon died down though, and he felt his feet hit solid earth.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes and was startled by what he saw. He was in the meadow.

"You did very well" Dreia said beaming at him.

Harry was struck dumb for a moment. He couldn't believe he'd apparated. "How... Where"

"Come on, there's a storm coming" she said, observing some clouds off to the west"and I have some questions to answer."

With flick of her wrist, she sent the trunk and a squawking Hedwig toward the cabin and walked toward it herself.

"Hurry up, slow poke" she called to Harry who has still not moved. "Race you to the cabin and this time I won't cheat"

Coming to his senses, Harry raced Dreia all the way up the hill to the cabin.

He quickly caught up too and passed Dreia. He raced up the steps and collapsed in an old weather beaten rocking chair on the front porch panting.

He watched as Dreia ran up the stairs, her long dark hair swinging wildly behind her, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Well" she said as she sat down in the second rocking chair next to the one Harry was occupying"you may be faster, but I have more endurance! We'll have to work on that, I think." This time, Harry was sure the smile on her lips was real.

"Ok" Harry started to ask"where exactly are we that it's the middle of the night" Harry looked up to the heavens. Astronomy class had taught him to gauge the time from the position of the stars. From where they stood out now, peaking in and out behind the approaching storm it was on or around midnight.

"Colorado."

* * *

A/N: I own nothing, please read and review!

* * *


	3. The Unexpected

**Chapter 3. The Unexpected**

"Huh? Why here?" Harry asked her curiously. He had never been off the isles of Britain before. Being thousands of miles across the ocean in unknown territory was a disorienting thought.  
  
"This is my home Harry. At least it is for now. Voldemort thinks you're safely tucked away at your Aunts house behind the wards where he can't touch you. Which is why the Order can't know you're here either. If they slack in protecting you, even for a moment, Voldemort will seize the opportunity to find you, to try to kidnap you. It wouldn't help matters if you were running around somewhere in England." she stated confidently. "So a trusted friend is currently taking some vile substance called poly-juice potion pretending to be you. Poor bloke having to deal with your relatives" Dreia said with a look of disgust on her face. "If there was anyway I could think of to get you out of there for good I would. I don't know how they live with themselves treating you they way they do, when it's obvious just how special you are." She sighed, "Maybe that's why they do it. Because they know."  
  
Normally Harry would have been upset with such a statement. He had to deal with his relatives day to day for ten years, and every summer after that. Maybe someone else should see what it was like to deal with the cold shoulder he always received, the constant chores, and insults. Normally he would feel justified feeling such a way, but not today. Today he did indeed feel sorry whom ever the poor bloke was that had to deal with them. It wasn't their job to put up with them. It was his. It was his sacrifice for the protection that kept him alive. Still the lengths the Order was going through to stay protected was getting a bit ridiculous.  
  
"Anyway," she started, getting out of her rocker, "on to much happier topics. I have some things to explain to you before sunrise. This is going to be a long night. That will require copious amounts of caffeine I think. Come on into the kitchen."  
  
Dreia led Harry through the front door into a moderately sized living room. Looking around, there was a large welcoming stone fireplace at the on the right end of the room. The walls were sage green with, some sort of earth tone border. Two brown corduroy couches lined either side of the room. The hard wood under his feet creaked as he made his way behind Dreia down a small hallway, into the kitchen.  
  
The kitchen itself was long, and rectangular. Lined with many shelves, and cabinets. Modern, muggle appliances could be seen through out the dark, forest green room. A long table in the center of the place took up most of the floor space.  
  
Walking over to the coffee pot, Dreia grabbed it and walked over to the sink. Filling the pot with water from the tap, she cocked her head toward Harry. "So, how do you take you coffee?"  
  
Harry laughed. "You seem to know quite a bit about me, yet you don't know how I take my coffee?"  
  
"Well, no. I made it my job to know the major events, and people in your life, not how you take you coffee, or tea." she said honestly, filling the coffee maker.  
  
"Why though? Why did you make it your job, why am I here? Dumbledore wrote about the training, but not much else."  
  
Having finished the coffee, she sat down at one end of the kitchen table and smiled. "Sit," she said. It wasn't said as a courtesy, it was a demand. Harry sat catty corner to her at the table looking at her intently for answers.  
  
She took a deep breath, clasped her hand together and looked at him.  
  
"Most of what I am about to tell you, you must keep secret. Much of what we will teach you will need to keep secret. It may be life and death to others and myself if you fail. Dumbledore promised me you would be trust worthy enough to give you this information, and to train you. Can you keep this information to yourself? Until the time is right to reveal it?"  
  
Harry looked at the intensity of her eyes. Gone was the bright smiling look to them. In its place were eyes that begged, and pleaded him to accept, to lock the secret she was to share away.  
  
"I will. But if you know so much about me, then you know I am connected to Voldemort through this damnable scar," he said pointing a finger toward his forehead to emphasis. "I can't guarantee that he won't see it." he said desperate for her to understand he would do as asked but that he couldn't control the connection. He hadn't even tried last year. And look what it brought him. Look what it brought Sirius.  
  
Dreia chuckled. "That, I will take care of, until you can properly shield you mind. Don't..."  
  
"How though? How can you? I don't want to be responsible for more...!"  
  
"HARRY! Calm down," she tried to placate. "How did you sleep last night? How did you feel when you woke up? You felt rested, relaxed... Didn't you?"  
  
"Yea, but that must have been a fluke. It's only a matter of time before he tries to break into my head again. How can I promise you when I don't know how to stop it, how to break the connection? Maybe we should wait... maybe... Dumbledore said he might be teaching me Occlumency this year. I don't want to commit to anything until I know I can control it," he said pleadingly.  
  
"Are you finished yet? Or are you going to let me speak?" Looking at him with intent, it seemed she really wanted to know. "If you keep working yourself up like this you will never heal for one. I don't want to put a calming spell on you again. One of the first steps to Occlumency is mastering your emotions. I will be helping to teach you how to do that as well. _Now_, before you start again please let me explain?" Harry let out a huff of impatience but let her continue.  
  
"Last night I placed a charm on you to keep nightmares and 'evil spirits' away from you while you dream. In the medieval era, families slept with their babies and toddlers to keep them safe, warm and breathing. It was a time when the infant mortality rate was very high. Babies don't have the same immune system adults and older children do. They have trouble regulating their temperatures when they are first born, and sometimes, even late into their babyhood they would forget to breath while they slept. There were no bottles. If you had an infant you nursed your child. Nursing mothers found it easier having the child in the bed with them during the night so they could feed them if the child demanded it."  
  
"That era was also one of superstition, and worry of the unknown. Even among wizardkind. A charm was created for children to sleep soundly through the night with no threat of nightmares or evil sprits possessing the children while they slept. It was common practice then for Dark wizards to posses the children of their enemies in order to inflict damage to the family."  
  
"The sweet slumber charm as it was called, also aloud the parents to, in place of dreams, give their children happy memories from their families. It was a good way to pass family information down from one generation to another, as again, even among wizard kind literacy was low."  
  
"This is the charm I placed on you while you slept, and the charm I will continue to place on you while you sleep to keep Voldemort firmly away from your mind." She sighed. "There is only one draw back to the charm however. Well, it's a draw back depending on how you look at it..."  
  
"What's that?" Harry asked curiously. He would be willing to do anything to keep Voldemort out of his head. Anything to keep the prophesy out of his hands if he discovered that he knew...  
  
She looked at him, straight in the eye and said "We have to sleep together. That is to say... we must sleep in the same room. It's the only way for the charm to work effectively. The caster has to be in very close proximity to the receiver of the charm while it works."  
  
"Oh"  
  
"Would you be willing to give up sleeping alone?"  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. He knew he like the way he felt when he woke up this morning. It was blissful, wonderful. But, he really didn't think he would be getting much sleep if he had to sleep next to such a beautiful girl every night. It might prove rather difficult.  
  
"I... "  
  
"It would only be temporary. I promise I don't bite... much"  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows at this last statement.  
_  
_Laughing Dreia waved a hand at him touching him on his wrist. "I'm only joking about the biting part. It would be ok wouldn't it?"  
  
"Well, yea... I suppose, but I've never slept in the same room with a... female. It might be difficult for me at first." He wasn't willing to admit there were other difficulties he could think of sleeping in the same room with her.  
  
"I will make you as comfortable as possible. Besides you'll probably be too drained will be drained by the time you get to bed each night. I doubt you'll notice me there." Harry about doubted it, but curiously he was willing to give it a try anyway.  
  
"If that's the case then you can trust me with your secrets," he said confidently "but only if you promise this will work," he amended.  
  
"Deal"  
  
"Now that we've got that out of the way I will explain everything as best as I can. From what I have gathered, you've had some...rather interesting years at Hogwarts."  
  
Harry snorted. "That's the understatement of the decade"  
  
Dreia rolled her eyes. "Dumbledore thought it best to start training you for battle. If you're track record is any thing to judge by, you will face him or his minions again. So, it was thought that you should be more prepared. I was told about the Ministry Battle. It sounded like you held you own, but you need more skills. By the time we are through with you, you could walk into Auror training and pass the tests with out having to go through the training."  
  
"I had a lot of help at the Ministry." Harry pointed out defiantly. _'Why must everyone bring that up?'  
_  
Dreia raised her eyebrows at this. A stern look shadowed her face, eye flashing dangerously. "It maybe safe to say you did have help Harry, but it was you, and you companions who held them off for a time. How many fully trained wizards can you count that could hold of that many fully trained Dark Wizards for so long? Not many... Not many at all."  
  
Her face softening a little she stated matter of factly, "I was not lying when I was in you Aunt's kitchen was I? You are truly too modest. Humility is an asset, but so is healthy ego."  
  
Anger and shame that came s easily these days rose in Harry's chest "_I_ shouldn't have been there in the first place... I shouldn't have fallen for the trick. I did, and now Sirius is gone. It's all my FAULT!" he raged rising to his feet. The fact that she was praising him for his stupidity was not something he wanted to hear.  
  
"No, it's not." Dreia said coolly. "Many, many things went wrong leading to his death. I've been at head quarters for three weeks Harry. Everyone is walking around blaming himself or herself in one way or another. Everyone, from Molly to Severus. And they are all wrong, just as you are. If there were no Voldemort, there would be no deaths related to him."  
  
Shocked wouldn't even begin to describe how Harry felt. His jaw dropped and quickly shut again several times in quick succession. He couldn't possibly fathom why anyone would think it was their fault. Something like to frustration filled his voice when he finally managed to ask "Wha...WHY? Why would they... How could they think... It's not their... _SNAPE?_??"  
  
"Yes, Severus," she said annoyed. "It was blatantly apparent that he didn't like the man one lick. But when there is a loss... as death of any kind Harry, good men and women often wonder what they could have done to prevent it. What they could have done differently... He," Dreia rolled her eyes, letting out a heavy breath, "wishes he could have communicated with you in some way. Although he didn't say it in as many words..."  
  
"I'll bet he didn't" Harry growled in an undertone. He folded his arms against his chest sitting back down and seethed.  
'_That bastard was responsible in more ways than that.'  
_  
"I won't pretend to understand what's gone on between the two of you. I haven't been around long enough. But I can tell your feeling for him are mutual among you." She shook her head with something akin to impatience. "But it is enough for me that he has regrets. I will leave this bit of the conversation to those who know you're situation better."  
  
"You seem expert so far." Harry retorted.  
  
"It's my job," she countered. "Perhaps one day I will learn the truth... but this has little to do with your training." She smiled, but it faltered. "Look Harry, I know you've been dealt a rough lot in life. You should have been packed up and sent off to they happy home by now. But you haven't. You're made of stronger stuff. I can see it. I could see it when you wrestled in your sleep and the sick on the floor last night before I cast the charm. You have the strength to pull through."  
  
"And what if I don't want to do it?" he snarled, "What if I can't? What if..." He lost it as he tried to push back all those feeling that had threatened to engulf him so much lately. "WHY AM I EVEN TALKING TO YOU... I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU!!!"  
  
Dreia rose from her chair is a swift movement and much to Harry's surprise place a hand on his shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. "Besides the fact that I have rather large neon sign attached to my forehead that only others can see that say "Dump all your shit here, Dreia can take it!", it seems that you need to get it out of your system. This is good, this is healthy, and you should respect it and give in to it. We will work on it. "She squeezed is arm and plopped back down into her chair; although the chair should have squeaked, it didn't. "It won't do anyone any good to go around brooding, least of all you. Again, we will work on it. As a matter of fact, we ill start now. Take seven deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. Close you're eyes while you do it."  
  
Harry clinched his fists together. "And if I don't?"  
  
"Will you deny your self?" she asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
Again, full of surprises, that was the last response Harry thought he'd receive. Maybe a threat of hexing, maybe extra chores, or detention or something... SOMETHING...But not that. "Why would it be denying myself?" he growled.  
  
"Would you rather feel like you're ready to explode? Would you rather feel miserable? For goodness sakes Harry you're a wizard, use your head. You're almost sixteen, full of hormones, and can produce magic. Emotions can quantify and drive magic... but magic is as much beyond you as it is a part of you. It will find a way out. I rather like the china here thank you very much. I don't want to have to fix it. It's just not the same."   
  
"And another thing, she continued, "controlling you emotions is the first step to controlling your life Harry. It's freedom. So again, I ask you... do you want to deny yourself?"  
  
"No"  
  
"Good. Now _BREATH_."  
  
Much to Harry's dislike of the situation, he did as he was asked. Closing his eyes, pulling a deep breath in through his nose, he thought it ridiculous that he would have to sit here and do this. Was he out of control as all that? What difference did it make? _Hormones_... HA! But the more he breathed, the more relaxed he did in fact become. He felt the tidal wave of anger, and rage that had over come him so suddenly; slip out through his mouth, in to the air.  
  
Opening his eyes he saw her looking at him. Calculating him. He felt a surge of anger ebb again, but that to he breathed out.  
  
Apparently satisfied she said, "That was very good. You do have some measure of control already. We will work on it. Now, we gotten way off course, back to why you are here."  
  
"Right, training, secrets..."he murmured picking up his coffee, taking a sip.  
  
"You are to be trained as a Druid"  
  
Harry spit his coffee all over the table, the floor and much to his utter humiliation, Dreia.  
  
"Oh god I'm sorry! Here... where are the towels?" Harry asked trying to keep from finding the nearest knife and ending it all right there...But Dreia wasn't listening. Shocking Harry just as much as the last statement, she fell off her chair, on to the floor, and doubled up with laughter.  
  
Harry stood narrowing his eyes at her. He crossed his arms against his chest he said indignantly "I'm so very glad you find this amusing. That's not something you normally spring on someone!"  
  
"Your... your...BAHAHAHAHAHA... you face! Oh that priceless... just priceless... bahahahahahahah"  
  
"Is this some kind of a joke? This isn't very funny!"  
  
Still rolling Dreia managed "No! snort... No! It's bahahahahahah.. It's.. Oh gods.. it hurts .. it HURTS! bahahahahah.. No.. It's.. snort.. Oh ...  
It's not a .. snort. JOKE! bahahahahah..."  
  
"Now look who's out of control.. why don't you BREATH!"  
  
"Snort.. You're.. bahhhaaa... right."  
  
Visibly struggling to re-gain her composure, she breathed. It was hard going for a moment, but she finally managed a bit. Sitting again in her chair she continued to giggle... "Should have seen you face... that was just brilliant.. Candid Camera moment... The coffee.. The LOOK! Oh my.. bahahahaha"  
  
A new wave of laughter engulfed Dreia as she clutched her sides, gasping for breath she rested her forehead on the table in front of her.. "Priceless... just priceless... bahahahah"  
  
Harry got up and began searching for a kitchen towel to wipe up the mess. He honestly did not know what to make of her proclamation or her outburst to his reaction. Looking in various cupboards and drawers, he started to smirk. He couldn't help himself. It was like watching an old slapstick comedy. So absolutely absurd, you just had to laugh. Pulling out more drawers looking for a towel he to finally gave in. He should feel frustrated he decided, but her laughing like a mad man was just too infectious.  
  
"You have to stop it" he managed through, his own fit. "Now you're making me laugh and I should be insulted!"  
  
"Your right... bahahaha... it was just so... snort... classic... oh it hurts! bahahahaha!"  
  
She lunged for her coffee and downed in three gulps in an attempt to stop her ravings. Finishing off the cup she looked at him with a rather large grin. "I think I shall always remember that. When most are told they are to be trained, it all to serious for words. You reaction is something I had always hoped I'd have the pleasure to see."  
  
She giggled a bit more and conjured a cloth to wipe up then mess on the table. With another wave of her hand she cleaned the spilt coffee of her white tank and blue jeans.  
  
"So I am to be trained then? As a Druid?" he asked growing serious again, and re-taking his seat.  
  
"Yes..." she said, still with a wide grin. "As I said before, if you keep ending up dueling with Voldemort then you should learn how to do it. Druid magic is something he knows nothing about. It would be a large advantage."  
  
"But that's just it, isn't it? Aren't the Druids dead?"  
  
"I'm breathing aren't I?" Dreia asked jovially.  
  
"You're a ... Druid?" Harry asked skeptically.  
  
"Yes, Mistress Dreia McKinnon, Arch Druid Priestess at your service" she said in mock formal tone.  
  
Harry gave her a blank look, but said, "Ah. Ok.. But that still doesn't explain why history thinks the Druids are dead." he said still serious.   
  
"History think the Druids are dead because that is what we want them to believe. According to history, we died out around the 5th century. This is, of course untrue as I live and breath before you."  
  
"A brief history lesson then," she said as she left her seat and made to make her self a fresh cup.  
  
"At the time, it was decided that it was to dangerous to continue to live out in the open. That we should seclude ourselves from the world where the Romans and Christians ruled."  
  
"You see, in the beginning of the first millennium Druids were the tops in all fields throughout British Isles. We were healers, teachers, judges, spiritual leaders, bards, kings and queens. We live harmonious, spiritual lives in tune with nature, and those of us that we're magically inclined helped those that we're not." Dreia smiled sadly reflecting. "Its no small mistake that there are old tales of wizardry still running around the muggle world. Magic folk and muggles worked hand in hand with each other for a very long time."  
  
"But, as always happens," she continued taking her seat, "the tides changed, and with it brought the Romans. They were bent on controlling and ruling over most of Europe. And while we did resist at first, in the end it was decided that the best course of action was to work with the new comers. To offer and olive branch so to speak. They were a much stronger force, and our common enemy at the time, the Saxons were bombarding our shores, savagely trying to take over the land. So we worked with them. They respected our religion as it had some things in common with their own, and our open use of magic. So we conceded letting them take over." Dreia shrugged. "It probably wasn't the best course of action, but the forefathers decided it was for the best."  
  
"But then a new religion sprung up among the Romans. One that while thought provoking, inspirational, and morally sound, left little room for other religions, and least of all magic. Druids were looked upon and heathens, heretics and devil worshipers. I could go on and on how they corrupted the image of our gods and holidays but that would take days."  
  
"Anyway," she said sipping at her fresh cup of coffee and re-taking her seat, "this new religion appealed to the common folk. It was easier to contend with. There wasn't much thinking involved; it was simpler. This god didn't ask so much of its people in return of spiritual enlightenment, so they went with it. And with it, went our way of life. When the Romans in charge started converting to this new religion, they declared that all other religions were thereby forfeit, and anyone practicing other religions would be tried and executed as heretic."  
  
"Much to our dismay we found out the hard that they were serious. With our numbers so low, we decided to take our way of life underground, shielding it from the rest of the world, and have ever since. Only descendants of those left, or young children we've found to be exceptional through out the centuries have been trained in the old ways, and magic."  
  
Trying to process this new information, Harry asked "Ok, but the world is bit more tolerant these days, isn't it? Why all the secrecy?"  
  
Dreia shrugged, sighing a bit "I've asked the same questions myself, when the separate groups come to meet, it's just felt that it's not time yet. Even though there are muggles among the Druids, letting the world at large know that there is such a thing as magic is a pretty big step and.."  
  
Harry cut her off rudely, raising his eyebrows skeptically, while he asked, "There are muggles among you?"  
  
"mmm hmmm" she murmured, looking sadly down at the table.  
  
"But what of Druid Magic then? How can they perform that?" he asked confused.  
  
Dreia looked up from her musings at the table, as the question Harry asked seemed to dawn on her. "Oh!" she laughed a bit. "Well muggles under the right circumstances can perform magic," she stated plainly, looking at the look of deeper confusion marked Harry's face. "They can already channel Earth energy to perform small bits of 'Magic'. So we use the same principals, usually in a ritual setting, to channel magic from those who do, to those who don't. They can then use this to perform magic."  
  
"Why do you think charms and curses work against muggles?" she asked. "They have to be filled with the magic that makes them do what ever it is that they are supposed to do. But what we give them is raw magic . The force that lives so easily in your and I. When filled this raw magic, which has no intent, unlike a spell, they can do whatever they wish with it, until it wares out."

"You see Harry, magic is much like blood in a way. Well, 'Sort of'. Blood is produced by the body to carries oxygen through out or body to help us function, among other tasks. If someone is running out of blood, we give them some more or else they cease to function."

"Magic, is produced in the body by wizards and witches much in the same way as blood is. Although, unlike blood its purpose is not to keep us alive, but more like a hand, to help us perform tasks. But again, like blood, if someone doesn't have any, we can give it to them for their use."

Harry was rather skeptical of this newest revelation. Although he could see the merits of her speech about where magic came from, he had trouble believing the muggles could use it. Pushing the thought aside for now he asked, "So, there are muggles here... Among your group?"  
  
"Yep, three in fact. Jeremiah, John, and Elmore. You'll meet all of them in a bit," she said, sipping a bit more of her coffee. "You'll meet all of them it a bit actually..."  
  
"Er... So is it only men that become Druids?" Harry asked. So far he's only heard her speak of men.

"Well _I'm _certainly not hiding anything under these jeans, Harry," she smirked. "But it is true I am the only girl here. There are more women in other groups though. It's 50/50 really; just not here for one reason or the other. Like I said before, the groups are really underground, so we have to be especially picky whom we invite in. And, in our particular little group, women just haven't joined recently," she said shrugging.  
  
"That makes sense, I think?" Harry said. When in fact he wasn't so sure. "So," he started trying gain some fact that would make sense, "I'm to be trained then."  
  
"Yes, you won't be trained in the religious aspect, unless of course you find it appealing. That would take years though. Normally to fully train a Druid take 15 to 20 years. I started as soon as I could walk. But, the magic aspect shouldn't take nearly that long. You'll of course learn a little bit about the religion as we go along, as the spells and such are so integrated with it. This week, the brothers and I will go over enough of the basics to get you through initiation, and then after that I will travel back with you to London, and then on to Hogwarts to continue your education. I know a lot of old defensive and offensive magic too because of my studies. Those should be of some use to you as well."  
  
"Sounds good," Harry said shaking his head in the affirmative. "But what's this about initiation?"  
  
Dreia smiled mischievously, "All those that wish to become a Druid must go through initiation. It's test, a challenge if you will. It's a declaration to the heavens that they will rightfully walk the Druid path. Yours of course will be altered a bit. We're really going against tradition here accepting you. But, seeing how this is for the greater good and Dumbledore asked so nicely, we've made the acceptations. You will also be going through a manhood ceremony at the same time."  
  
Harry not, for the last time that night raised his eyebrows. "A manhood ceremony? What's that?" he asked, choking on his last words.  
  
She laughed leaning forward and touching his knee. Yet again, a tingling sensation ran up the course of his form. "Nothing awful I assure you." she said, "It's basically a ceremony that marks the passage from boyhood to manhood." Removing her hand and Harry feeling a bit more confident she continued, "I'll get Winston to explain it to you in more detail if you'd like. I don't know many specifics, as I've never been invited to one. It's all very 'boy's club.' But, it's a traditional rite of passage in the Druid community. We're not the only one's though. Ever hear of a Bar mitzvah? That's a Jewish rite of passage into manhood. There are lots of older peoples and religions that still use them. It's a good focus really. It helps make the passage into adulthood a bit easier."  
  
"You'll do just fine on both accounts, Harry. I promise," answering the skeptical, and slightly embarrassed look on Harry's face.  
  
"Er, right," Harry stammered, "So tell me a bit more about the training...."  
  
Harry and Dreia spent the next couple hours going over some of the basics of the training he would receive. Not only would he receive instruction in Druid Magic from Dreia, but instruction in defensive, and offensive magic as well. He was also glad to learn he would receive instruction from various Order members when they returned to London, and throughout the rest of the year. They talked at length about the spells he already knew in all areas-from potions to defense. They also briefly touched on the DA club Harry and some other students had started last year. Dreia was thrilled with the idea, and told Harry he should continue that next year.

They also talked about the lack of news on the Voldemort-front. He'd been quiet again after the attack on the Ministry the previous month. "Probably, off somewhere licking his wounds," Dreia said with a wicked smile.

After all the talking they had done, Harry found that he like Dreia very much. She was... odd in a way. She could be confusing, bouncing off the wall one minute, and serious and dramatic the next. But she was kind, and gentle; almost motherly in difficult sort of way he couldn't quite grasp. She had an ease about her that made you feel as though you were the only one in the world.

They continued to talk for sometime into the morning until Dreia abruptly changed the subject.**  
**  
"Er... Listen Harry," Dreia started on a more serious note, "there is something about one of us that you must know before you meet him. He's someone you've undoubtedly heard a bit about before and I would like to say to you first and foremost, anything you may have heard about him is strictly untrue. Or at least in part..."  
  
"So, who is this?" Harry interrupted curiously. Having heard different things about different people in the past, and them being completely the opposite of the truth (Sirius and Pettigrew came to mind), he wouldn't be surprised to learn someone he took for a foe was in fact not. Although he full intended to proceed with caution.  
  
Dreia looked like she was struggling slightly, like she was quiet sure how to broach the subject, not exactly sure how to choose her words. Harry could tell she was trying to protect him from something. If is one thing he was picking up on quickly, it was that her true emotions showed clearly on her face. She seemed very readable.  
  
"I told you that I started my training young," she started looking toward the ceiling searching for words that seemed to fail her, "I was born near the end of the first war, in 1979. My mother was a member of the Order then, and felt it would be safest to send me to the Druids earlier, rather than later, for my protection. You see my father was a Druid, and he insisted that their first born be trained as one."  
  
A ghost of terrible sadness crossed her face as she glanced at Harry. He felt himself harden slightly under the look, it was one her knew all to well. "The night the they came for me, a man urgently knocked on our door. My parents were upset that he had come, and tried to slam the door in his face, but he stuck out his hand and held to front door open so they would hear him out. He told them quickly that Voldemort had found our home, and that the Death Eaters were on their way to eliminate us. _All of us_. He broke down right there on the front stairs and told them that the task he'd been given to prove his worthiness to Voldemort and receive the mark was to murder me while the others murdered my parents. He told them that he couldn't needlessly murder an innocent pureblooded child. Nor could he stand by and watch it happen, for surely the rest would if he could not."  
  
Harry was understandably horrified._ 'How many more families were torn apart, like mine? How many more will be?'_ Harry thought dreadfully as Dreia recounted the story. '_Why would anyone want to murder a child! What kind of scum could possibly do that?  
_  
Dreia breathed in heavily as she crossed her arms in front of her. "My parents were frantic. He told them they had maybe 2 or 3 minutes at best to get me out. It was a bit of pure luck really that they chose that night to send me on. Winston had arrived some time earlier in the evening to pick me up. So he heard what the man had told my parents and took pity on him. He knew that for this man to do this, surely meant a death sentence. You did not openly defy Voldemort, especially if you were one of his would be followers. Winston made a split decision. He decided to take the man back with him. He had spared my life, so Winston in turn spared his."  
  
"My parents died that night, choosing to stay and defend our home. The Death Eaters tortured, and murdered my parents. And from what I gathered later, they torched the house to ashes after they ere through. What remained of their bodies were recovered and buried. It was assumed that I perished in that blaze as well, but my body was never found."  
  
Dreia smiled sadly. "After we arrived at our destination, and they found out that my parents were gone, Reggie insisted he be the one to care for me, to raise me. He felt it was his duty to do so for some reason that I haven't fully understood. He says now that he felt a certain bond with me. By saving me and renouncing Voldemort, he also renounced his own parents. Something he assures me was much harder to do than renounce that bastard himself."  
  
"So...Who is he then?" Harry asked quietly. He'd watched as Dreia recounted her short tale, a myriad of emotions trailing there way across her face as she spoke. He could tell whom ever this person was meant a great deal to her, and loved him like a father possibly, or brother or uncle.   
  
But then just as Dreia was about to expose whom this mystery person was a tall, dark man stumbled sleepily into the kitchen behind her. Harry couldn't quite make out a face as he had it lowered, but the hair and stature was hard to miss, and easy enough to place. A stitch of tight pain caught in Harry's throat as he gazed through his suddenly blurry eyes at the figure in front of him. _'It can't possibly be.... Oh God it can't be!'_ The room seemed to spin as his heart beat loudly quickly in his chest. He felt disoriented, unable to form a decent coherent thought. All the pain, heartache, and mourning he'd barely managed to suppress in the four weeks following the incident at the Department of Mysteries exploded to the surface. He shook as cold coursed through his veins in attempt to quell the heat produced by the frantic beating in his chest.  
  
Just as the sleepy figure raised his arms above his head, in a great wide early morning stretch that Harry recognized instantly, his dressing gown pulled taught over his body Harry caught sight of his face and nearly fainted. He suddenly realized Dreia was beside him holding him up with on arm wrapped protectively around him. She was speaking to him, but he couldn't make out what she was saying. All he knew was that stating before him, as if it were any ordinary day, was "S.. Sirius?"  
  
The man standing before them, finally acknowledging he was not alone in the kitchen, looked up sharply at Dreia, and then to Harry. His eyes were wide in shock as he dropped his arm to his side still facing Harry, "You didn't _tell_ him?"  
  
"I was getting to that part." she said quietly through clinched teeth sounding like a wounded child, "What on earth are you doing up at this hour anyway?"  
  
"Couldn't sleep" he stated, folding his arms across his chest waiting. "_Well?_" he asked impatiently. "Are you going to let the boy sit there in a stupor or are you going to tell him?"  
  
Dreia gave a defiant glare at the man before her, but softened as she turned to Harry and breathed slowly, cautiously, "Harry,.. Meet Regulas Black."

A/N I own nothing, JK's the Goddess with the copyrights.


	4. The Whereabouts of Regulus Black

**Chapter 4. The Whereabouts of Regulus Black**

Harry stood dumbly before the man who looked so much like his Godfather. His pulse quickened and his blood chilled while he tried to force back down torrent of heartache he'd felt since that night. But the mere sight of the face that he'd longed for so often staring back at him was just too much to bear.

Harry lost his battle with his guilt and grief. Finally succumbing to the forces that threatened time and time again for the past month to pull him into the undertow and drown him in his own despair. His body convulsed over and over again in a wave of sorrow and heartache that was Sirius. He'd felt so guilty over the death of his Godfather. He felt so awful for that one decision; one simple decision that had lead to his Godfathers death.

'_Just like Cedric_.'

Only this time, it was someone he truly cared about. Someone who he could relate to, someone he could count on, someone who loved Harry for Harry, and not the Boy Who Lived. And now he was gone forever.

Harry was only vaguely aware of his surroundings as he slid to the floor from his chair in a heap. He knew someone was singing gently to him, and holding him tightly, but it didn't matter. None of it did anything to quell the trauma he felt at seeing that face again.

Time seemed to have slowed down, while his body racked with deep spine chilling sobs; brief-fluttering images of his Godfather looped through his distressed mind as the waves mourning continued. The Shrieking Shack, not having to return to Dursley's, flying hippogriffs, big black dogs, pig, the hospital wing, Grimmauld Place....  
  
_...Grimmauld Place...  
  
... The Tapestry...  
  
...**REGULUS**...  
  
"YOU!!!" _Harry hissed, finally finding that certain something to jerk him firmly out of his misery and bury it back down again. As he leapt up from his seat on the kitchen floor next to the table, he knocked Dreia back with a fizzle of something white and a snap. He brandished his wand toward the man seated before them with his head in his hands._ "YOUR. DEAD!"  
  
_"_Shit_," he heard Dreia muttered as she struggled to get to her feet to the right of him. Out of his peripheral he could see an eerie blue glow come out of her palm the she placed on the back of her head. Regulus looked-up at Harry, his head still in his hands and let out a long slow puff of breath. "That seems to be the general consensus, yea," he stated as if it were really old news. "You all right Dreia?" he asked turning slowly to her on the floor.

"Erm yea... It's going to smart though. We've _got _it get that under control... Harry?" she asked.  
  
"This man is dead, and a Death Eater. What the _HELL _is he doing here?" he yelled.  
  
"This is man that saved my life, Harry," she said shakily. "Reggie here... Ehhha... He's the one who warned my parents..."

Harry, who'd been on the very edge of hexing the man who dared to share Sirius's face into oblivion, paused at Dreia's words. In his grief he'd forgotten the story she relayed to him about the man who saved her life. He looked over to her where she was finally up on her feet, and she nodded in confirmation.  
  
"But Sirius said..."  
  
"Sirius never knew the truth," Regulus began sorrowfully. "I was going to tell him this summer, as Dreia was running off to join the Order and all, but obviously I never got the chance to..."  
  
It seem making a grand entrance was something of a normality around the place as yet another early riser stumbled into the room. He was nothing like the familiar look of Sirius that Harry had just been assaulted with though. He was average height, late forties, early fifties maybe, with long dirty blonde hair, a short precisely trimmed beard, and terribly broad shoulders; a bear of a man really. Surveying the room around him with a slightly disinterested look he said, "I see young Harry made it alright. It's there coffee?"

"Yea, in the pot Winston. Should still be fresh" Dreia supplied.  
  
"Jolly good" he said happily as he turn to the cupboard to get himself a cup.  
  
The rest of the room was dead quiet as Winston poured himself a cup of early morning brew. Standing next to the stove, Dreia still clasped the back of her head. Regulus still stared at Harry as if to say he was sorry, and Harry stared right back, not moving himself or his wand an inch as he wrenched with anger, covered in sweat. How dare they spring this on him? REGULUS BLACK?

Although he didn't know Dreia very well, he trusted her. Yet he wasn't willing to trust the man before him. Sirius wouldn't have trusted Regulus, and if Sirius wouldn't have trusted him, who was Harry to argue?  
  
Finishing up his morning constitutional of a lot of sugar, a lot of cream, a bit of coffee, Winston turned toward the room making a second surveillance. "So Reg," he said pulling the cup to his lips "bother to show him you're not marked then?"  
  
Regulus narrowed his eyes in confusion for a moment, but then realizing what he was being asked, "Harry? Do you... Mind?"  
  
"_OF COURSE I MIND_!" Harry yelled. You don't _DARE _make any movement or I'll..."  
  
"Harry for goodness sakes! Palms out Reggie, I'll pull up your selves from here," Dreia said angrily as Regulus splayed his hands palms up over the table and Dreia flicked her hand from across the room. The sleeves of his dressing gown rose to just below his elbow reveling absolutely nothing except perfect lightly tanned skin while Regulus looked up at him expectantly.  
  
Harry, not exactly expecting this turn of events, but encouraged nonetheless that at least he wasn't dealing with a marked Death Eater, retook his seat rather roughly and lowered his wand to his thigh. "You have some explaining to do Mr. Black," he said shortly still trying to retain some level of control.  
  
Regulus breathed out another heavy sigh, "What would you like to know?"  
  
"Why were you going to join Voldemort in the first place? Why you didn't tell Sirius during the first war? Why you didn't come back and fight against those bastards!" Harry spit out.  
  
Regulus looked at his hands, still splayed across the table, then looked back into Harry's stormy green eyes. "I was a coward Harry," he said simply. "Dreia tells me you spent some time at my childhood home. If you did, then surely you saw the portrait of my mother?" he asked. Harry slowly nodded his head in the affirmative, remembering the wretched old women screaming obscenities and anyone who dare make a noise around her. "That's precisely what she was like growing up. That portrait is no exaggeration. Dad wasn't much better."

"Childhood wasn't easy for Sirius or I. Our parents were obsessed with their pureblood mania, and upholding the 'Honorable and Noble House of _Black._' He spat with some disgust. "We were expected to uphold those values as well. Neither one of us believed any of it of course, nor did we want to turn out like out them. Sirius took a more direct approach to their efforts by openly defy them, while I on the other hand, just played along. You should have seen them when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. And I got a rather nasty howler when I was sorted in to Ravenclaw. Up till us, everyone was Slytherin. I always said he was more brawn than brains, while I was more brains than brawn..."

"Do _NOT_ insult Sirius in my presence" Harry said through a very tight jaw and narrowed eyes. "I will _NOT_..."

"I wasn't insulting him Harry," he said pleadingly. "I looked up to Sirius. I was even a little jealous when he so much courage to stand up to our parents. To look them in the eye and tell them exactly what he thought of them. That's something I didn't have. When I was sorted into Ravenclaw they took that as an open act of defiance toward them. They started to treat me the same way they did him, and I didn't have the guts to stand up to them. So I played along with their pureblooded ridiculousness."

Regulus shrugged, removing his hands from the table and placing them in his lap. "As horrible as they were I did love them. They were my parents after all. I felt... responsible I guess, to have one of their sons uphold the family traditions. Like most children I wanted nothing more than their approval, even though I loathed their existence."

"And then Sirius left. He _left_.As childish as it seems now, it hurt me something awful. He left me there alone, with _them_. The only lifeline I had in the 'Most Wretched and Torturous House of Black' _left me_. You have to understand Harry I was very angry with him for a long time. And rather than follow his lead and leave myself, I decided to defy Sirius. To openly throw myself into my parent's world, to make him suffer by watching me go down that path. To make him hurt as much as he hurt I was," he finished with a sad, ashamed look at the table.

"And so, when Voldemort came 'round they urged me to join his crusade. So I did. I went to their little meetings, and chanted along with them while they spewed their propaganda. After all most of my family, save for Andromeda and Sirius were part of the group. They spouted all that my mother and father had ever taught about how purebloods were a far superior race, how it was our birthright to control the Wizarding and even muggle world. How others were well beneath us and other such rubbish. So again, I was stupid enough to follow them in defiance of the brother I so looked up to."

"Finally once night, Alvin Nott pulled me to the side after one such meeting for a cup of tea. We talked at length about our beliefs, the current state of wizarding world, and of the regime at the Ministry. For all his hogwash, he was kindly and charismatic. I took an instant liking to him. Over several more weeks we continued to talk after meetings and one night he asked me if I would like to join a select group, from the current group to discuss... more in depth plans to change the current state of the world. I agreed and the next week he took me to an old abandoned warehouse, or what looked to be one anyway in York."

Regulus looked away from Harry and shuddered. His shoulders were tense and even though he was turned away he could see his dark green eyes were filled with a shadow of horror and regret. He continued somewhat detached, "As soon as I entered the place, before I could blink, I was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. I was searched bodily and then thrust to one side of the warehouse. I sat there for what seemed like hours. I didn't make a move. They'd taken my wand when I was searched and I heard at least a dozen voices surrounding me in whispers. It as cold and dark, except that I knew there was a large fire some where in the room, as I could smell it. Sooner, and later than I expected the whispers trailed off. The rusting of robes became still and I held my breath. At the time I didn't know why, but I didn't think the sudden still could be good. I wasn't disappointed."

"I was grabbed from behind and forced to walk some yards and was then thrust to my knees. My blind-fold was ripped off of my head, and before my eyes could fully readjust, I saw the most disgusting vile creature I'd ever before me. The sight of him, of _it_, repulsed me. For surely this was no human. He was just standing there, observing me. Just staring at me like some awful grim reaper moving in for the kill. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. I just sat there as still as I could manage, as courageously as I could muster. Finally after some time, he asked me why I had come, and who had brought me. Alvin came forward, and gave a short speech as to who I was and why my talents would be valuable to Voldemort. When Nott finished, Voldemort seemed to consider what he'd told him for a while. He sized me up and down, all while I kneeled there, not moving a muscle, not daring even to blink. Then, someone, another dark robed figure, entered the warehouse and moved forward to Voldemort and whispered in his ear. What ever it was made him very happy indeed, and the dread in my stomach only increased that horrible smile stretched over his putrid face." Regulus shuttered again. "He looked at me expectantly and told me the my loyalties were to be judged. I was to go to the McKinnon house and mur..." He stopped then and looked to Dreia. A small sad tear escaped his eye as he looked at her hopefully, fondly. "He told me that to prove my loyalties I had to murder the McKinnon's child, and wait for the others to arrive..." He stopped again taking deep desperate breaths.

But before he could begin again however, Dreia was by his side, kneeling on the floor in front of Regulus. She'd buried her head into the side of his chest, hugging him and murmured, "Really Reggie, I've already told him that bit. Just... Just go on, after you got here."

"Right," he said somewhat determined as he patted Dreia on the head. "When we arrived here, Winston here put me up for awhile, while I rethought my life. It's a miracle they put up with me at first really. I must have walked around here in a complete daze for weeks." Winston sniggered into his cup. Regulus glared at him for a moment, but there way a little tug at the side of his lips. He continued on looking back to Harry, "I was angry, angrier than I had ever been. I was angry with Sirius for leaving, although at that very moment I knew exactly why he did it. I was even angrier with my parents for pushing me into something like that. And even more so, I was angry with _myself_ for being so damned childish, and not following Sirius in the first place."

"But still, old habits die hard, and I was fearful to return. Fearful that there would be a price on my head, not only from Voldemort, but also from my parents. They'd placed one quietly on Sirius' the day he left, did you know?" Harry looked at Regulus aghast. Surely no one would ever place a price on their own child's head would they? Harry shook his head 'no' and Regulus nodded in understanding. "Yea great pieces of work they were... Anyway, I had heard that the Dark Order had claimed responsibility not only for the deaths of the McKinnon's but myself as well... I asked Winston here and the others if I could stay on raise Dreia. I had heard they were considering brining in a nanny, but I dunno. I just felt a ... connection with her ever since I laid eyes on her." He smiled and looked down to Dreia happily, "You weren't but what 6 months maybe?" Dreia shook her head in a yes, stood up, kissed him on top of the head and resumed her seat, a thoughtful look on her soft features.

Winston, having sat quietly through out most of the conversation finally spoke. "I thought it was amazing, honestly. Here was this 18 year-old kid, who'd risked his life for something barely year-old, against everything he'd ever grown up with mind, and he was asking to raise her? I was astonished." He shook his long blond mane and smiled at Regulus, "Reg, you may have been a coward up until then, by you certainly weren't after that," he said with some pride. "'Course after all that who were we to say no? He'd every right to ask to look after the pip-squeak, (OI! Dreia shouted looking indignant)."

"Anyway Harry, that's the reason sitting right over there that I didn't go back. I had nothing to go back to. Or, so I felt. With I'd done to get back at my brother, and my untimely demise as a Death Eater, I was fairly certain he would never accept me. And parents were defiantly out of the question. But here I had a family, a real family. And I felt guilty in a way for leaving Dreia's mother and father there to fend for themselves. It was the least I could do."

"You never told me that?" Dreia interrupted with curiosity written all over her face.

"Yes I did feel guilty. Winston here had other troubles getting you out of the house and protecting you, I should have helped protect them..."

Dreia rolled her eyes at that. "That's ridiculous. I would have rather had you here then dead along with them Reggie."

"Right well, anyway. That's my sorry Harry. I don't expect that you'll believe me, from the look on your face," he said honestly.

"I sounded a bit... rehearsed to tell you the truth." Harry said. And it did sound rehearsed to Harry. Like he'd been waiting for this confrontation. So, with that and what little Sirius had told him, he wasn't sure exactly what to believe.

Regulus smiled sheepishly. "Er, it was bit yea. Dreia told me you were coming, and that you had been close to Sirius. I can only imagine what he told you about me, so I thought long and hard about what I would say to you when we met. I settled on telling you everything from the start and letting you decided for yourself. Perhaps one day I'll earn your trust. I... I am truly sorry for you loss Harry. I wish... I wish I had gone sooner..." he finished lamely.

Harry replied simply by looking down at the table. He was grateful for the sympathy, he just wasn't sure if he liked where it was coming from. It was just so... hard looking at him, to think of him in any other way then what Sirius had described him that day in front of the tapestry. That was the only time he'd ever mentioned Regulus. So maybe what Regulus has said held some truth. Maybe Sirius was angry with his brother for following down that path. Maybe that's why he never mentioned more than that. He guessed he'd never know.

"What _did_ he tell you about me anyway?" Regulus asked curiously pulling Harry from his thoughts.

Harry shrugged. "Not much. We were looking at the Black Family Tapestry and he just told me you were a Death Eater and that you'd gotten in over your head, and ended up murdered on Voldemorts orders." Harry shook his head skeptically, tapping a foot on the floor, "But he also said he didn't find out any of this until _after_ he'd got out of Azkaban. There's nearly two years between the time he went there, and you escaped here. That's what doesn't make sense. Surely he would have heard more than that before he was shipped off?"

There was a flash of anger across Regulus face that didn't escape Harry. From the look Dreia gave, it hadn't escaped her either. But just as quick there was one of confusion to replace it. "I wonder?" He shook his head and said "Well I guess I'll have to figure that one out when I get back to London then," he said as if it decided the matter.

"London?"

"Yea, Dreia here wants me to join the Order. I... I think it's time I did the right thing." He said somewhat more confidently than he started.

Dreia suddenly yawned loudly with her hand covering her mouth, then stretched widely. "I'm completely exhausted. I've been up 24 hours already. This transcontinental thing is rather taxing. We should probably finish this conversation a bit later when everyone's had time to think. Um... I think I'm going to catch a bit of a nap before the day starts. Harry, would you like to join me? I can show you the room we're staying in?" she asked sleepily.

Harry had been staring out the window at the somewhat covered, but rapidly approaching dawn. The clouds outside were still thick, but they had yet too stick together long enough to produce rain. He looked to Dreia when she asked, and then colored a bit. He'd defiantly rather go with her then sit with an unknown man and Regulus Black whom he didn't trust at all, but the having her announce it like that in the middle of the kitchen with her... 'guardian' sitting there was something else entirely. He was saved from making any sort of noise, which he was entirely sure he couldn't when Regulus asked, "You're going through with the charm then?" he asked quietly masking his dislike for the situation.

"Yes," Dreia replied politely. "I'll be a perfect gentleman, I promise" she said cheekily.

"Dreia..." Regulus warned.

"Yes _Daddy?_" she replied sweetly, turning to face him innocently.

Regulus screwed up his eyes, rubbing his thumb and index finger across them. "Good. Night. Dreia... Harry"

"'Night Winston, Come on Harry let me show you," She said tugging at his sleeve. As Harry rose to follow, still red, but now from head to foot as Winston replied to Dreia from behind him "'Night Love. See you in a few. Good to meet you Harry!"

"You too sir," Harry returned politely as they ventured down the hall.

To the left of the front door, there was a set of stairs the Harry had missed observing the living room when they first entered the house. They traveled up the long staircase lined with muggle photographs, and entered a large dark foyer with halls to the left or the right. Harry followed Dreia to the right passed many doors and many portraits of scenes from around England and few masks that Harry couldn't make out in the darkly lit hallway. Finally, they reached an oak door stepping inside.

The room was large and bright. There were two full sized cast-iron beds side by side, with a simple table and lamp between. The walls were a light, pale shade of purple, and the sheets and blankets were cream colored, with some sort of spiral pattern on them. At the foot of the bed near the standard sized open window was Harry's trunk. Hedwig was snoozing comfortably in her cage, her beak nestled under a wing. Across to the right of the room were two doors. One Dreia told him was the bathroom, the other a large closet. Between the doors stood an old secretary and a chair. Very much a guest room Harry decided, but beds looked comfortable enough. And even though it was only around afternoon his time, after all he'd been through since last night, he was very happy at Dreia's suggestion of a nap and a chance to collect his thoughts.

She left the room, saying she needed to get into something more comfortable, which again made Harry go red. She just swatted him on the arm playfully and told him he'd just have to get used to it.

Harry didn't bother to change completely as he was just taking a nap, but he did carefully switch his new shirt for a tee 'four sizes to big', and lay down.

He thought about all that had happened so far that day. From the strange Breakfast with the Dursleys, to finding out he would be trained in Druid magic, to the break down in the kitchen when looking on the face of his godfather's dead brother.

Admittedly he was a bit ashamed of himself for the latter. It was just so unexpected that he couldn't help it. He didn't know the exact moment he'd lost control, but he knew with out a doubt that he had. It was just so indescribable seeing a face someone that so closely resembled Sirius. It had been coming on for a while he guessed. He just didn't expect it to come so soon. It was strange though now that he reflected on it. He did feel better than he had before. He just didn't know how he would handle spending a week with the man.

Harry turned over to face the doorway as Dreia re-entered and stifled a laugh. "What?" she asked annoyed. "Haven't you see doctors scrubs before?"

"Yea... But never to sleep in!"

"Well there're comfortable," she insisted. "And seeing as how I'm supposed to be a perfect gentleman, I thought them most appropriate," she said sternly, though there was laughter in her eyes.

"_ANYWAY_," she continued, "I am going to use the charm, but as I am simply exhausted, I'm not going to give you a memory just yet. You won't dream. Is that alight?" she asked.

"Yea... anything is better than nightmares," he said, turning back on the pillow and removing his glasses.

"_cadley magh lhiannoo"_ she whispered under her breath, as she waved her hand across Harry. Harry felt immediately relaxed, and much sleepier than he had previously. He was barely able to tell Dreia that she would have to explain how she used wandless magic so much before falling fast in to a comfortable, undisturbed, and dreamless sleep.

* * *

A/N I own nothing, JK's the Goddess with the copyrights. Please Review! 


	5. Elements in Magic

**Chapter 5. Elements in Magic**

Harry woke slowly some hours later staring blurry-eyed at the ceiling, breathing in the warm scent of the approaching afternoon. The selfsame smile from this morning spreading across his face. He felt exhilarated to have slept twice in a row with out being a woken by nightmares, visions, or bizarre dreams. He would most defiantly have to find some way to thank Dreia for this little miracle in his otherwise depressing life he decided. He had often wished that he could escape from his harsh realities in his dreams. Now, with Dreia's spell it looked like he might yet get that chance.

He rolled over to tell her as much, only to look at an empty, precisely made bed.

Harry let out a long, low breath of air as he looked at the vacancy Dreia had occupied. He wondered briefly where she'd gotten to, but decided against getting up to find out for a while. He would be more than happy to lie here and enjoy the peace and quiet.

But ignoring the random thoughts and memories that swirled endlessly in his head had never been one of his strong suits. Indeed, he was never able to clear his head properly as was required during his Occlumency training last year. Lying in this bed not even attempting to keep his mind absolved of thought gave his peace and quiet an invitation to fly swiftly out the open window.

So, all alone in the little room he began to mull over again all that had happened in the last couple of hours. The meeting with Regulas had been a rather large blow, and the fact that he was to be trained in Druid combat skills was simply astonishing. But it was surprisingly his dreams that gave him the most trouble.

He remembered waking up sick, which Dreia had confirmed last night in their talks. He searched every corner of his mind to remember some small detail of it. But all that came to him was a sour sensation in the pit of his stomach, and feeling that something was very wrong.

It must have been Voldemort up to something he decided. What else would make his feel that way? He only wished he could remember, so he could possibly warn the Order. If he had to have those wretched visions, he at least could put them to some use. But with nothing to specific to report, he decided to say nothing. It had been several hours since the dream, if anything had happened they would surely know by now.

Of course, if Dreia's promise held true he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore anyway until he was skilled enough in Occlumency to dispel with the visions in his sleep himself. And he would be more than happy to let her continue to cast her spell until that happened.

His mind then wandered back to the dream Dreia had sent him. He wondered how she did it, or how she gave him the vision of the meadow last night. Or why he couldn't quite remember the details of that dream to begin with either. Didn't she say that this was a way for memories to be passed down from one generation to the other? How was the of use if they ended up all 'fuzzy?'

Harry continued this avenue of thought by thinking more about Occlumency, and eventually training. Then he wondered how they were to get around the International Confederation of Wizards' Statue of Secrecy, and Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic. How Druid magic differed from regular magic. How Dreia had managed to gain his trust so quickly when he'd only known her for such terribly short period of time. How all that had happened in the last 24 hours had come to pass when he'd spent three weeks in utter seclusion at the Dursleys.

That last thought made his blood simmer slightly. For three weeks all he'd gotten from his friends in the magical world were brief, one or two line hellos.

Ron's latest had only said:

_Dear Harry,_

_Sucks you're not here mate. Can't wait to see ya!_

_Ron_

And from Hermione it was:

_Dear Harry,_

_We miss you terribly. Please let us know immediately if you need anything._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

The only time he'd seen hide or hair of the Order was Moody sticking his head in the back door over the hair argument, and the brief replies he'd get from them when he sent in his required every three-day letter.

_Harry,_

_Good to know the Dursleys are taking our threats seriously. _

_Tonks_

Or,

_Harry, _

_We understand. _

_Remus_

Or,

_Mr. Potter,_

_You'll receive you OWL results soon. Please continue with your summer studies. _

_Minerva McGonagall_

It wasn't that he felt sorry for himself; he understood that they couldn't say anything via owl post for fear of interception. It was that he was trying to keep himself busy to avoid anything having to do with his last week at Hogwarts. Some news at least would have distracted him from the memories he tried so hard to avoid.

And the Dursleys hadn't helped matters. Except for the short arguments with his aunt, the giving of his required chores, meal times, and the sneers he'd received when he worked-out with Dudley, his aunt and uncle ignored him for the most part. Dudley was still Dudley for reasons Harry couldn't explain. But any of his usual nasty remarks about Harry were met with severe reprimands from his aunt and uncle if said in their presence.

Which it self was _very_ strange. They'd never done anything in Harry's defense, especially when it came to Dudley's taunts, _ever_. They'd always encouraged it. Of course, they'd still let Dudley get away with small little jabs, like the one he gave over breakfast. But the larger more blatant one's were met with a sharp tongue and privilege revoking, leaving Harry to wonder if reality had suddenly decided to go on holiday and forgot to tell him.

But admittedly the training sessions with Dudley had helped him to focus of something, to forget for a while. It also helped him work off some of the disappointment he felt at being kept in the dark again as he had last year. He knew why now at least, but it was still just as frustrating.

Harry pursed his lips together and shook his head with self-irritation. This was no way to spend the day. Staring at a blank ceiling, brooding. He was finally back in the magical world (half a world away, but still...), and he would not allow himself to be depressed again.

He only glanced at the somewhat ajar door because he'd seen something out of the corner of his eye. Two small blurry heads were poking through looking at him.

"Er... Hello?" he called.

The two heads turned toward each other, giggled, and abruptly disappeared behind the door.

'_So there are children here,_' Harry thought, letting out a low grunt, shrugging off his covers, and swinging his legs over the side of the bed back into his shoes. He ran as a hand over his face and through his messy black hair. "Time to meet the rest of this lot," he said under his breath. Then he stood, stretched, and traveled out of the bedroom to face the day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking down the hall he noticed again the multicolored decorations adorning the walls. As he had this morning, he recognized the landscapes from around England, but now that it as lighter, he got a much clearer view of the masks and other artifacts interspersed between them.

Some of them were familiar from history lessons he'd received in primary school. The Green Man was there, the sheila-na gig, some Celtic knot work, and the Celtic cross. But there were quite a few he didn't know which were absolutely bizarre to him; a man with deer antlers, three equal disembodied arms joined at the shoulder rotating in a counter clock-wise circle and runes he didn't recognize.

And what exactly was with all the trees?

He was more curious about something else however as he walked through the rest of the hall and down the stairs. With the exception that there was no way that that many rooms could fit on the second floor, for all the magical people in the house there seemed to be very little magic in it.

He brushed off the confusion figuring he'd get the answers to that particular mystery eventually.

Harry entered into the kitchen a few minutes later where it looked like lunch was getting started.

Winston was seated at the far end of the table next to two young boys around nine or ten years old enjoying some sandwiches. Dreia was huddled in the icebox apparently in search of something and a female house-elf (or so he assumed. She was wearing a dress.) was busying herself by making some sort of garden salad.

Winston looked up from his meal and grinned at Harry motioning him to join them. "Ah young Harry, good to see you're up and about. Did you rest well?"

"Yes sir, like a baby," he said taking a seat opposite the boys, who smiled at him.

"No, no Harry, enough of the 'sir' business." He made face like he was sniffing something particularly foul, "No, no, it makes me sound like an old man."

"But you are an old man, Winston," Dreia pointed out pulling her head out of the icebox.

The two boys giggled as Winston gave Dreia a look that would freeze fire. "I needn't be reminded of it ever time I turn around thank you kindly."

Dreia winked at him, pulling a large jar of pickles over to the table.

"Harry, let me introduce our youngest," she said. "This is Eden,"pointing out the small dark-haired boy with a short nose, and round blue eyes, "and this is Jeremiah," pointing to the other, who had sandy colored hair that was more brown than blonde. "Boys, this is Harry. He'll be staying with us for a week."

"Nice to meet you Harry," they said as one. Harry had a distinct sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was possibly looking into the eyes of two future Weasley twin replacements. Did they always come in twos?

"So Harry, how would you feel about a little demonstration of some of the things you'll be learning after lunch?" Dreia asked placing a sandwich in front of him.

"That would be brilliant," he said picking up his ham and swiss on rye.

"Fantastic," said Dreia walking around the table to Winston where Winston was seated. She stood ramrod straight in front of him with a very large Cheshire cat grin on her face. "Winston, kind sir," she said in fake accent befitting stuffy, prissy, upper-class women, "I challenge you to a duel."

Winston looked up from his plate wearily while she conjured a white silk glove and smacked across the face, startling everyone.

Across the table Eden frowned, and said "But that's not how wizards do it!"

Dreia ignored him continuing to smile at Winston, who was shaking his head. "What say you, sir?" she asked in the same fake accent.

"May I at least finish first?" he asked.

"You may," she said curtseying and taking her place at the table next to Harry, winking at Eden.

"It's an old muggle custom," she explained to the boys. "Muggles used to have a very formal way of asking for a duel. They would take off a glove a strike each other across the face to show their contempt for each other, as I just did. Wizards just ask for one. _Boring _I say. It's a bit more interesting the muggle way," said Dreia.

"Yes, and she uses the muggle way every change she gets," Winston told them dryly, rubbing his cheek. "She leaves out the part where they used guns or swords, did it at dawn and _fought to the death_."

"Technicalities," she said unabashed, tucking into her sandwich.

Harry just smiled at the little interchange between the two as he turned to the boys, "So, were you two needing something earlier?"

"No, just curious," said Jeremiah. "We didn't know we'd have visitors."

"You two are in need of some serious busy work," the house elf said sternly, placing the salad in the icebox and pulling out an enormous roast. "I've found them all over the place sneaking about today Miss Dreia. Should I put them to work?"

"After the duel Jinky," and both boys paled.

"But we have training this afternoon!" the echoed together in protest.

"Well you'll just have to remember that the next time you decided to go lurking about the house," Winston said. He wasn't harsh, or unkind, but serious nonetheless. "You two know better."

"Yes, Winston," they murmured sadly in unison.

Harry felt rather badly that he'd said anything. He wasn't trying to get them into trouble. Although he was taken back that as punishment their lessons had been canceled and that they were truly upset about it. That was a more Hermione like penalty than one befitting any of the Weasleys.

Trying to turn their mood around and stain off some of his own guilt, he asked, "Er...So, do you two play Quiddich at all?"

This tactic seemed to work well as immediately both boys brightened. Eden spoke first, "Not much, but when we do its _brilliant_! We don't play much because Jeremiah here is a muggle. We have to wait until they give him enough raw magic to fly. It's almost too bad really, he excellent," he said beaming at his friend. "Do you play?"

"Seeker," Harry said. He just wished he knew if that position would be secure when he returned to Hogwarts. It would be wonderful to fly again.

"Well if you take Jeremiah up with you soon maybe Harry here can show you two a few moves?" Winston asked him.

"Not a problem. But...won't Jeremiah fall?" Harry asked a bit wary.

"No, not at all," Dreia replied. "We cast some sticking charms on his rear and he stays on nice and tight. Eden's magic help keep Jeremiah on the rest of the way. Eden's not a bad flier him self," she said proudly. "And he always looks out for Jeremiah." The boy just shined at her.

"How high can we go? With the _other_ muggles and all?"

"As high as you want." Winston said. "The land here is properly warded and unplotable. Even other wizards can't get through them without invitation. We still have to contend with the Wizards' Statue of Secrecy and all that hogwash. Performing magic in front of muggles is still very illegal here in America. We've special wards in place to keep them from monitoring the magic performed here. It's also how we can train the children so young. If the U.S. magical government only new what we did here, we'd all be in Alcatraz faster than we could say 'I object," he said laughing deeply.

That certainly answered a lot of his questions, but a new one popped up instead. "Isn't Alcatraz an abandoned muggle prison?" Harry asked inquisitively. He'd seen something about it once on a documentary that Dudley watched. "Don't they have tours through there?"

"Just because you can't _see_ anything in it, doesn't mean it not there, Harry," Jeremiah said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Honestly, are you _sure_ you're a wizard?" he asked.

Harry just smiled at him for moment before he erupted in a fit of laughter at the irony of that statement. He'd made the connection. Always he'd wish he'd find someone, anyone who had no idea who he was in the magical world. And to think, he got his wish in the form of a muggle child, learning long thought dead _magic_, by long thought extinct wizard order, in the middle of America.

This boy, _these_ boys hadn't gaped at his scar. They hadn't asked him horribly personal questions, or whispered low while staring at him. And with that final comment he knew for sure. '_They didn't know!'_

Both boys just stared at him like he was a mad man. Dreia and Winston exchanged quick knowing glances and rather large grins as they watched Harry approaching absolute hysterics, his half eaten sandwich forgotten.

A few moments later Harry managed to calm himself and wiped the tears from his eyes. He said to the boys with one of those smiles you can't remove from you face, the kind that make the muscles in your face ache, "You are officially my new favorite people. I can't think of a time I've been happier to hear those words... Just... Just..." Harry started to chuckle again, hand over his mouth while the boys just looked at each other, their eyebrows constricted in confusion.

Finally Eden asked curiously, "Um... Why though?"

"Ask Dreia sometime," the rather large smile across his face was Harry's only other response. He silently hoped they wouldn't ask until after he'd gone back.

They finished their lunches with some light, everyday talk about the running of the house; who was where, who's doing what, who's turn it way to take out the garbage (Which Jinky made a face at). Harry listened attentively to the conversation around him trying to figure out the dynamics of the household.

It seemed there were eight men, two teenaged boys, the two younger children, Dreia, and the house-elf. The men all worked at various jobs in both the magical and muggle world; everything from muggle solicitors to magical government. He was quite surprised to learn that Regulas was employed at the local equivalent of St. Mungo's as a healer, considering he'd spent the last year thinking of him as a death eater. "He's one of the best in the country," Dreia said proudly. "They are simply besides themselves that he is going home to Britain."

Dreia and Winston stayed home most of the time dealing with 'Druid Business' and training of the two teenaged boys and the two younger ones Druid lore, Druid magic, and a scaled down equivalent of the education Harry received at Hogwarts. But they also both took time to teach advanced classes at The Salem Witches Academy on occasion.

"But you're my age," Harry said dazed. "How could you teach?"

"Besides the fact that she a regular little book-worm, and can't seem to help mastering any new spell she comes in contact with," Winston replied with a roll of the eyes, "shes been learning since she was a year old, year-round. She's also been training those here since she was 12. They were all quite impressed with her at the Academy when she applied. They snatched her up with out even taking the American equivalent of OWLS or NEWTS."

"Flatterer," Dreia said as she batted at him. "It will get you ever where."

Harry also asked why they'd taken up residence in America. From the little time he had spent with some of them, he noticed that none of them he'd met so far had managed to loose their accents, nor ways of speaking. They would, on occasion would say something American, but for the most part they were still very British.

"We don't know," Dreia answered honestly. "This place has been with our particular offshoot for 200 years. There were no records, no reasons why passed down. It's a bit of a mystery really. Most of us travel between here and Britain quite frequently though for family, and rituals, and what not." She shrugged her shoulders. "We've just not had good solid reason to move back. It's wonderful here; clean, bright, full of vibrant energy. I'm really going to miss the place," she said wistfully.

"And we will miss you too love, we will miss you too," Winston said with an encouraging smile.

"Well!" Winston continued brushing off the gloom of imminent departure, "I believe I've been challenged to a duel. Your terms Dreia?"

"Elemental magic only, as I will be teaching that to Harry first. Your weapons?"

Winston's smile broke into a mischievous grin, "Wands. No wandless magic."

Dreia narrowed her eyes at him, "I knew you'd say that. I shouldn't have bothered to ask."

"But it's traditional," Winston returned.

"Yes, Yes, fine," she said. "The herd was in the front meadow this morning are they still there, Jinky?" she asked turning to the house-elf.

"Yes, Miss. The back meadow would be far more suitable."

"Shall we?" Dreia said turning to the table at-large.

Everyone began cleaning up from the noontime meal but Jinky protested loudly waving them away. "Really, this is my job you know. How can I expect to earn my way if you won't let me at it!"

"She's not a normal house-elf," Harry told Dreia quietly walking behind Winston and the boys from the kitchen, out a back door and on to the porch. "I've never met one that didn't use language a 2 year old would be proud of."

Dreia gave a good-natured chuckle. "When she came to us five years or so ago, we told her that if she wanted to work for us, she had to accept freedom."

"_Well_, you can just imagine what that did to her. By the time she was through wreaking havoc all over the house, she had managed to bang herself into three walls, broke two fingers with a meat mallet _we didn't even know we owned_, and threw herself out the second story window."

"You're joking," said Harry horrified. He didn't even think Dobby would have gone as far as to throw himself out a _window_. "You didn't stop her?"

"We _tried_. She banged up my elbow pretty good when I tried to stop her from ramming her head into the wall. Gio lost a toenail trying to pry the mallet from her hand only to end up somehow with half the knife drawer falling on his foot and a large butcher knife sticking out of his big toe," Harry winced. "_Don't_ ask me _how that_ happened. There still a betting pool on that one. And then, Vincent fell down the stairs trying to get to her on the second floor. None of us had ever dealt with a house elf that quick or violent before. The only thing that finally managed to stop her was the ground outside the window."

"So when the dust settled... literally... we told her we would bring her on un-freed, if she learned how to use proper English, had her own room, managed to make and ware her own clothing, and would accept help from us. And under no circumstances, was she to ever, _ever_, punish herself again. _Ever_."

She shook her head in exasperated remembrance, "She was a mess at first, but adapted. I've had her explain some of her elf magic. It's fascinating...."

"Are you two going to chat it up all day or are we going to do this?" Winston shouted from the meadow below them. "I've got vegetables that need work!"

Dreia shot Winston a lost helpless look. "That man is either extremely patient, or extremely impatient, and there is no in between. Especially when it comes his vegetables." She crunched her eyebrows together and yelled to Winston, "I'm coming you old badger, keep your shirt on!" Then she stuck her tongue out at him in a completely childish way.

"So," said Dreia, her demeanor completely switching to excitement as she turned to Harry. "Pay close attention. I expect questions and awe when we're done!" She turned and bound down the porch stairs, shouting over her shoulder, "And you boys watch closely as well! There will be an exam!"

The boys sitting next to Harry on a bench groaned in unison. "She's rigorous that one," Jeremiah said making a face behind her back. "Always looking for a reason to test us."

"This isn't for our benefit, it's for yours!" Eden said glaring at Harry. "What exactly makes you so special?"

Harry sat down next to the two boys and gave a large, heaving sigh, slumping his shoulders forward. But there was a hint of the earlier laugher playing about his mouth. "I'm sure you'll find out in time," he said looking out to the meadow where Dreia and Winston were discussing something in a rather animated fashion. "As I said before, ask Dreia."

The two boys shot him curious, irritated glances, folding their arms over their chests in unison, and turning to the meadow. Harry laughed darkly to himself. _'Why am I so special indeed.'_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The duel between Dreia and Winston was nothing short of spectacular. They began by placing their backs together, taking ten paces forward, then spinning around and whom ever was quicker getting off the first shot.

It was nothing like the dynamics of a Wizards duel as Eden had pointed out. There were certain rules you followed, allowances you made for your dueling partner. This was all most war, winner taking all.

Dreia muttered the first spell brandishing her oddly shaped wand like whip, producing a long green thorny vine that swung around wildly before binding itself around Winston. Winston somehow managed to poke his wand into the vine where is vanished in a blaze of purple fire; quickly returning with a spell that cast a bright searing light out of the tip of his wand that Harry swore was a ray of sunshine. Rather than side step the beam, Dreia wove her wand in a large clockwise circle that conjured a large round rock that hung in the air. Winston's spell collided with the boulder absorbing the jet of light. Winston swore loudly flinging himself to the ground while the boulder began to glow intensely with a halo of bright hazy light. The light then quickly detonated in a trapezoid back in Winston's direction, that seemed to blind him momentarily.

Dreia quickly followed with a spell pointed toward the sky. A grey mist erupted from her wand while Winston pulled himself from the ground, wiping his eyes. The mist shifted and shuddered above him forming a large cloud that sent sheets of rain over him. But rather than fall uselessly to the ground it stuck to him wherever it touched covering him in a literal wet suit.

Winston disappeared from the man shaped wall of water appearing again behind Dreia where his wand emitted a silver streak of lighting. Dreia spun in a pirouette transforming herself into what Harry could only assume was a gust of wind as there were bits of earth and completely out of place fall leaves. The leaves, and earth soared straight up as the bolt of lighting struck the ground where Dreia was previously standing sending a great spray of grass, and dirt in every direction.

Dreia materialize in the center of the mess jerking her wand in several quick flicks generating glowing red sparks. The sparks hit the ground near Winston becoming peculiar little campfires with feet. The fires darted for him, climbing up his robes attempting to set them ablaze. Steam rose from where they came into contact with his robes, as he was still completely wet.

"Bet you wish you hadn't drenched me right about now!" he yelled to Dreia laughing, water pouring out of his wand at the little fires. Dreia was undaunted though. She just stood stoically straight, showing absolutely no emotion, her hands and wand clasped together in front of her, almost as if she was waiting for something.

Harry saw exactly what she was waiting for a few moments later when Winston yelped in pain. The fires had not gone out at all with the water from Winston's wand, nor were they deterred by the fact that he was wet. They simply jumped around him drying his robes and _then_ setting fire to him.

Pointing his wand at the fires he systematically froze them, tossing them to the ground where they shattered at his feet. He then sent one of the freezing charms in Dreia's direction to which she barely had time to counter with a large golden shield that froze to her hand when the spell struck.

Harry heard her curse momentarily, but return with a thin silver light pointed in Winston's direction. At first, Harry thought she'd missed. The silver light soared inches above Winston's head as the older man cringed striking the ground behind him. It was quickly apparent that what ever she was intending had worked because everyone, including the boys beside him hit the deck as the earth began to shake violently. Harry deciding that the porch floor was as good a place as any joined the boys covering his head with his hands.

Harry was a curious lad though, and raised his head slightly to see what was going on. He looked up just in time to see Dreia point her wand toward the cracks in the earth behind Winston and yell _"Finite Incantatem!"_

The earth stopped shaking just as suddenly as it started, jagged fissures mere inches from Winston on all sides.

He looked around at that destruction and then to Dreia who had stood, and was brushing herself off. "Got a bit feisty did ya?" he yelled exasperatedly, shifting himself onto his knees. "Who'd you call for that one?"

"Gaia," she shouted back, still no emotion on her face. "Sorry"

Winston pulled himself the rest of the way to his feet, and shook himself off checking out the state of his injuries in the process.

"Would you like to continue?" he shouted to her finally, with a dramatic gesture of his bruised and burnt arms in the direction of the fissures, and damage around the meadow, "Or shall we call it a day?"

Dreia answered by sending the same eclectic blue light she'd used on the back of her head the night before from her palm toward Winston. The light enveloped him momentarily, leavening a glowing aura of blue surrounding him in its wake.

"Did you see that?" Eden whispered excitedly to Harry and Jeremiah. I've never seen the bùrach spell before!"

"I reckon she went overboard," Jeremiah said dully picking himself off the porch. "Look, first she tries to kill him, then she heals him!" he said staring at the blue light surrounding an exhilarated Winston.

The cobalt light faded in to the backdrop of the afternoon sun around Winston who displayed a large smile, his previously raw red skin now the perfect shade of cream. Dreia stood with her arms folded across her chest in indifferent observance.

The indifference only served to puzzle Harry. He'd watched the spectacle before him trying to figure out exactly how all these powerful spells worked or how he'd learn any of it. But now that there was a break in the action, he wondered how Dreia remained so... _detached_ during the whole thing. It was like she was some sort of moving statue. Not that her movements were stiff in anyway they were very fluid, very dance like. But she barely moved any of the muscles in her face _at all_.

But before her had time to wonder further, Dreia flung her wand in an ark unleashing an ink black streak that expanded in to a dark wall of nothing that headed directly for Winston.

Winston gathered his wits and countered with the same bright ray of sunlight he'd used before. The spells collided fiercely in the middle of the meadow.

At first it seemed the black of Dreia's spell absorbed Winston's like the boulder had. It sped fast in the wall of nothing disappearing as it struck. But the black stopped in its path a short distance from Winston, and began to expand and writhe and twist. Harry could make out random spots of dark grey that created a sharp relief floating in the nothing that became lighter and lighter as the seconds wore on. All those watching the sight winced and turned their heads when finally the vast space of black exploded, dissipating under the blinding yellow light of a newly risen sun.

The sun faded triumphant, while Winston jumped in the air, on arm stuck up in victory. That wasn't to last long though for when he landed he sent three quick light blue spells running toward Dreia. Mid-air they formed into miniature tidal waves of water, which with a flick of her bizarre wand, Dreia banished in puff of steam.

"Spoil-Sport!" Winston shouted in a good-natured jab. Dreia ignored the prod flicking her wand shortly sending a rotating blue disk of fire at Winston, followed silently with a poke of her wand by a large gust of wind.

Winston waved his wand in a complex pattern that conjured a clear shield of water. The disk of flame struck the shield evaporating both in the large puff of simmering steam.

Winston had barely the beginnings of a smile when his eyes bulged spotting the advancing gust of wind. He made to dive out of the way, but the squall hit before he could move more than a few inches, shoving him hard in the center of his chest, carrying him backwards. He rode the line of wind for a few moments before being unceremoniously flung to the ground, knocking him out cold.

"Should have seen that coming," Jeremiah commented dryly beside Harry shaking his head. Though he said it like he knew what the spell did his eyes betrayed him in their roundness, his mouth somewhat slack. Eden looked at him, with the same round eyes saying, "How could he? He had a great bloody disk of fire to contend with!" He screwed up his eyebrows in confusion looking back to the meadow where Dreia had begun to walk briskly over to Winston's fallen form. "What _was_ that spell anyway?"

"You mean you don't know?" Harry asked. He had figured from the comments the boys were making that they knew exactly what the dueling duo was doing.

The boys turned to him with awe struck faces. "No!" they shouted in unison. "That advanced stuff, Harry," Eden said awe struck. "We've read about some of it of course, but they've told us we had to wait until we were older to witness it."

Something seemed to click for the boys as they glanced at each other, then back at Harry; a slow smile began to creep across each of their faces. "My opinion of you has decidedly changed." Jeremiah said smugly crossing his small arms in front of him. "We may have to work this afternoon, but because of you we got to see this!" Both boys turned to each other then and clapped their hands together in a high-five. Harry rolled his eyes, and looked back to the meadow when Dreia had revived Winston.

He was in a sitting position on the ground rubbing the back of his head a scowl across his face. Dreia was leaning over him examining his bumps and bruises laughing. This Harry was glad to see. He was slightly unnerved to see how calm, how cold she was during the short duel. She was such had such an animated personality. It was just _weird_ seeing her like that.

Winston stood slowly, Dreia helping him to his feet. She waved her hand at him, dust flying from the folds of his grey robes. Dreia wove she arm through his and gently began guiding him back to the cabin when a voice broke the air from the door behind Harry.

"I should have known," said the deep sleepy voice behind Harry. "You could hear that racket in Denver, I'd wager."

Harry turned around to face whom he assumed was one of the teenagers of the house as everyone else was supposed to be at work. He stood stiffly in the doorway covered in shadow watching the meadow as Dreia and Winston approached. He was reveled rather abruptly through having been pushed from behind onto the porch. The brown haired boy scowled pulling himself upright as a younger shorter redheaded laughed at him emerging from the doorway and said, "You shouldn't lurk in doorways, its rude."

"I didn't want to roam around out here in only my dressing gown," he returned shoving the shorter boy in the shoulder as a snicker escaped the formers mouth.

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten," the redhead said to the brunette. "His lordship does not like exiting his bedchamber in less than robes of gold and silk," he said in a regal drawl and mock solute.

The brunette continued to scowl at the redhead, while the redhead and two younger boys doubled up with amusement. Harry just smiled in ignorance as the older boy surveyed the three helplessly shrugging his shoulders. He turned to Harry proffering his hand. "Patlyk Andrews," he said sincerely, Harry accepting his hand shaking it firmly. "And that prat over there is Thayne Brewster."

"Harry Potter,"Harry returned brightly. Patlyk gave him a nod of acknowledgment, his eyes momentarily flying up at Harry's forehead, but said nothing. Thayne was less forgiving though, as he abruptly froze in place, and openly gawked at Harry's brow in amazement. Making Harry feel frustrated and self-conscious.

"Merlin's beard," Thayne whispered.

"Now who's being rude?" Patlyk inquired.

"I... um..." Thayne stuttered. "I just wasn't expecting... Oi! You!" he suddenly shouted rounding on Dreia who was approaching the steps with Winston in tow. "You said that _A_ Harry would be visiting. Not _the_ Harry," placing his hands on his hips.

She raised her eyebrows affronted, "Surprise?"

"Surprise," he said scathingly shaking his finger at her. "You _know_!"

"I do..."

Thayne threw his arms in the air, pivoted on his heel, and made for the backdoor. He stopped only long enough to say to Harry, "It's good to meet you... Harry." Then he yanked open the backdoor, walked in, and slammed the door behind him.

Harry frowned. He had no idea what that little exchange was about but he knew full well that he was at the center of it. Which he was sure he didn't like at all. "What did I..."

"Nothing," Patlyk answered directly, relieving Dreia and helping Winston up the stairs. "You're his, um... Hero... More or less. Must have been a shock," he said looking poignantly at Dreia.

"I certainly didn't expect him to react like _that_," she defended, dusting herself off. "But I am sorry he reacted so badly," she said meaningfully to Harry.

"More... or less...?" Harry questioned.

"The posters are a dead give away yea..." Patlyk answered quietly.

"You're _that_ Harry?" the two younger boys questioned in harmony.

"You two. Jinky. Now." Winston croaked as Patlyk lowered the man on the bench. Both boys mumbled something under their breath that sounded distinctly like '...not fair...' but went into the house anyway.

'_So much for my anonymity...'_ Harry thought.

"We'll discuss it later," Dreia said to Patlyk sighing, walking up the stairs. "I'm sure he'll be fine. First things first."

She knelt beside Winston, closing her eyes. The same blue light that had healed Winston's burns minutes before emitted from her raised palms again casting him in another aura of cobalt. He breathed in deeply letting the spell wash over him. Harry watched in amazement as Winston hair and robes fluttered as if in a strong wind. The pain evident in his brow decreased, and his stiff posture relaxed as the light faded. Winston smiled, opening his eyes. He tested out each of his limbs and the back of his neck, seemingly pain free.

"Good thing that," he said none the worse for ware. Dreia sat beside him patting him on the knee and looked up expectantly at Harry. "So, what did you think the little bit of elemental magic we showed you?" ignoring the unasked question in his eyes.

Harry was startled briefly by the unexpected switch in the conversation back to the duel. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, analyzing the aspects and highlights of it. He worried his lower lip for a while and then said finally, "It was powerful; almost frighteningly so. But every move either of you made was countered or, could be potentially countered by other non-elemental spells. How will that help me?"

"It will help because it will be something you know that whom ever you are dealing with won't, for one. It will catch them off guard. Plus it's really hard to counter an elemental spell," Dreia said seriously, the emotionless mask sneaking back on to her face. "Unless you know what you are doing it takes an awful lot of power to perform those spells, let alone create something to counter them. Winston and I barely broke a sweat."

"How?" he asked curiously.

"Easy," she answered, "We had help."

Winston and Patlyk grinned at the confused look on Harry's face, but he ignored it. "How did you ask for help? Who helped you?"

"The elements," Patlyk answered for Dreia. "Everything in nature has a spirit Harry, Trees, flowers, grass..."

"Vegetables," Winston put in.

"Even the bloody Vegetables," Patlyk muttered rolling his eyes. "The elements are no different. All you have to do is ask them for help and they are more than willing to oblige."

"Er...Right," Harry said skeptically. "How exactly do you ask them for help and what _are_ the elements?"

"That you will be learning first along with the different spells associated with them," Dreia said. "There are four basic elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water. But there are others, such as the element of the sun, and moon. We'll start with earth first."

This did nothing to appease his sudden doubts that any of them were completely sane. Still, he'd seen the duel first hand, so maybe there was some merit to what they were saying. It would take some convincing though.

"You'll see. But don't take my word for it." Winston said. "A bit of work in the garden perhaps?" he poised in question turning to Dreia.

"Vegetables," she echoing his earlier statement with the smile Harry had grown accustomed to making reappearance.

Winston stood, and walked off the porch motioning for Harry to follow him. "Come young Harry, I will teach the beauty of a perfect vegetable garden."

A/N: Part 2 should be out much sooner than this chapter was. Some chapter's flow, some give you absolute nightmares. This turned out to be the latter. I hope you all were as pleased with the outcome as I was.

Babylon for Life, I miss Sirius terribly myself. sniff . I think Regulas will be hanging around for a while though. I was very happy with the outcome of that little bit in the first chapter myself. I knew I had to put some set-up in there somewhere, and then the words just flowed like water. It was great. Thank you so much for reviewing!

And as always...

I own nothing. JK's the Goddess with the copyrights. Please Review!


	6. Lessons from the Garden

**Chapter 6. Lessons from the Garden.**

"It is the perfect garden," Harry commented with a slight hint of astonishment, looking around. In all his years working in Aunt Petunia's flower bed he'd never had reached the level of perfection this garden had.

Neat, perfectly symmetrical rows of plants both big and small ran the length of the side of the cabin. Tomatoes, corn, beans, strawberries, potatoes, squash, peppers and others Harry did not recognize looked ripe and almost ready to harvest. The rich vibrate colors shown bright and alive under the hot summer sun. The stalks where strong and hearty, and not a wilting or bug eaten leaf was to be seen.

"It brings a tear to my eye," Winston said enchanted looking around the garden himself, "I will be an old man, out here in the hot summer sun; hoe in one hand, cane in the other. This..." he said strongly spreading his arms wide, gesticulating around the garden, "This is the power of nature. The power to provide nourishment, sustenance, and the power to continue on season after season long after we are all dead," he finished grandly.

Winston allowed himself a moment more of nostalgia before he clapped his hands together and rubbing them excitedly. "Now, to show you the spirits." Winston drew his wand, and pointed in southwest direction of the garden conjuring something Harry could not see. Winston set in motion at once toward what he conjured, Harry following curiously behind him.

"Which one of these okra plants is living?" Winston asked, pausing and directing Harry's attention to two plants in from of them.

Harry examined one leafy, two-meter high stalk, then the other. He knew that one these plants Winston had created, but he had no idea which one. He wasn't even sure he knew what okra _was_ let alone, which one was real. Both were equal in height. Both had broad heart shaped leaves. Both had furry bean pods that looked somewhat similar to asparagus. And both had some sort of yellowish tropical looking flowers around the top. Harry even inspected the roots looking for any sign of the created plant, but again, both were equally the same.

Harry frowned, sticking his hands in his pockets giving the vegetables one more, quick look-over. "I'm not sure," he muttered finally turning to Winston. "It's a decent bit of magic, though."

Winston gave a broad smile, clapping Harry on the back. "Precisely. Good, Good. Now, close you eyes and hold a leaf from each of the plants in either hand. Tell me if you feel a difference."

Taking a deep breath, wondering if this was leading anywhere, he did as he was asked. And unsurprisingly, Harry felt as though he was holding two, cool, flat leaves. He didn't feel any difference between then two, not a thing.

"Um... Am I feeling for something specific?" he asked cynically, feeling a bit thick standing there holding on to a plant _feeling_ for something. "I don't feel anything different."

"Talk to them," Winston returned simply.

"Come again?" Harry asked incredulously, opening his eyes to face Winston. "You want me to _talk_ to them? They're not even magical plants, what good would talking to them do?"

Winston just smiled in return; saying again, "Talk to them."

Harry shook his head, wondering once more if these Druids were sane and not completely mad. Working in Aunt Petunias' gardens most of his life and he'd never talked to any of her plants before. What good would standing here like an idiot speaking with vegetation do to help him tell the two apart? But when he looked back at Winston with an eyebrow arched, as if to say, "Are you sure?" the older man just nodded once in the affirmative and gave him a little wink.

Harry shrugged his shoulders in response, figuring that Winston was in fact, completely barmy. But seeing no alternative other than to flat out refuse, he began to speak.

"Hello? How are you doing? I'm Harry. It's... Er... very good to meet you," he said with the most serious voice he could muster. But really, he felt incredibly ridiculous and was extremely pleased that nobody but Winston could see him in this embarrassing predicament.

But just then, when he felt his humiliation at this little venture rise and he was defiantly going tell Winston to forget it, something stirred in Harry's right hand.

The leaf itself was not what stirred; it was something else. It was something slightly beyond, or around the leaf. Like a small vibration maybe. It was gone so quickly Harry wasn't sure he'd even felt it at first. But he felt a bit less skeptical. Maybe this _wasn't_ so insane after all?

He shifted himself in a closer position and asked, "Could you... um... show me which one of you is real? Please? I'd... Like to meet you acquaintance," he finished lamely.

Again, he was only holding two cold, dry, heart-shaped leaves in his hands. Harry stood there for a moment feeling for any small hint of what he'd just feltHe was about to give up again thinking what he felt before might have been a product of his own imagination; his own heartbeat, a wisp of wind, or something else entirely. But then, to his surprise, the right leaf quivered again.

It was light at first, a flutter. But then the fluttering strengthened into the sensation of tiny heartbeat, pulsating away in his right hand. Warm currents spiraled around Harry while his eyes snapped open in amazement. He actually felt that the plant was friendly, curious even, happy.

There was shyness to it though; Harry felt dropping his left hand unconsciously. It was like it wanted to say hello shyly and run away again like a child might. And he wondered how he knew this. How he knew what it was feeling.

"It's this one...," he said slowly letting go of the plant completely.

"And how do you know?" Winston asked him folding his arms in front of him.

"It well, _moved_ I guess. And then I felt like... like it was friendly but wary of me. Like it was timid, or shy," he answered. He knew that this was true, but saying it was just well, _unusual_.

"Very good Harry," Winston said nodding his head. "What you felt was the spirit of the plant. There is one in everything in this garden. There is one in everything living or breathing on this planet. It has emotions, and knowledge just as we do. To a different extent certainly, but they have them even so. And if you know how to look, if you know how to listen, they can help you and they can guide you. And that is one of the reasons, why we as Druids honor the plants, and animals, and spirits of the land."

"Watch," he breathed reaching out to the tall plant, stroking it gently. He whispered to it in comforting, soothing tones, like one would a child to ease a frightened child. Harry watched closely as the older man began to sing in a low warm voice that steadily rose higher and higher in some language he did not know.

Some moments later the outline around the okra began to ripple, as Winston continued to sing gently. The very air surrounding it became think and pliable. Then, right before Harry's astonished eyes it glowed bright iridescent green, and pulsed in the same succession he had felt in the palm of his hand.

"There we are," Winston said serenely. "You needn't be shy, Harry is here to learn our ways. Will you show him?"

The glow around the plant shimmered for a moment as if accepting the task and gradually expanded a string of its radiance to Harry. Harry, still dumbfounded at the marvel before him slowly, without thinking, reached his own hand forward toward the glimmer of the plant. He was not sure what was going to happen, but he felt as though it would not harm him, and that was going to show him something.

And then it happened. When Harry's' fingers met the tip of the light and the two made contact, Harry's mind blacked out for a moment and then raced with a thousand different images of the gardens life. It was like watching a time-laps photography film that displayed a developing thunderstorm, or a budding rose.

..._Winston and the younger children planting the first seeds of the year... ...The clan blessing the newly seeded earth... _

..._People dancing around a large bon-fire in the ring of stones on the hill, while the first hints of green broke through the ground... _

..._A down pour, the beasts from the meadow coming close, but never entering the space, while the newly sprouted plants dancing to the rhythm of the rain..._

..._Dreia talking animatedly to the plants, and raising some sort of energy, while the plants reached adolescence, shoots and leaves spreading over their developing bodies... _

..._Another blessing from an unknown man, while the sun baked away the grass beyond the garden, the plants flourished with the first signs of reproduction... _

..._The sun rising and setting day after day, Winston working happily amongst them, the goings on of the meadow below them... _

..._Harry himself standing before the okra looking completely bewildered..._

And while all these images raced before Harry's eyes, he felt deep down inside at his core the moods the plants associated with all these happenings. The elation of the newly risen sun, the terror at the torrential down pour of the thunderstorm and the beasts of the meadow, the quiet purr of calm, while members of the house hold talked to the plants and the radiant love they felt for Winston, as caregiver and friend. All making Harry's head reel, his gut ache at the spectacular readjustment of his reality.

Then, just as suddenly as they had started, the memories ceased. Harry was once again, looking at the tall plant, connected to its wildly pulsing aura.

Harry was dazed. He couldn't even begin to fathom what on earth that was all about. He was about to turn and ask Winston, but before could he was abruptly jerked forward in a rush of green wind and introduced the each and every one of the beings in the garden in rapid succession. His was hand firmly attached to the buoyant spirit of the plant as the pleasantries were made only a heartbeat apart, flashes of colour and smell whizzing by him. There were no names, or forms, but distinct attitudes, and different personalities in all the flora of the garden.

And just as rapidly as he'd left, Harry found again himself brusquely shoved back in the same spot he started in. His heart raced, and body trembled with an adrenaline-induced scuttle at what he'd just seen an experienced.

Harry gazed dumbly, eyes glazed, at Winston for a moment before collapsing on the ground in heap narrowly missing some tomato plants.

Winston roared with laughter, clapping his hands together while Harry groaned from the floor rubbing his hands under his glasses and over his eyes.

'_I was wrong, there _are_ things worse the Occlumency,' _he thought to himself, staring up at nothing in particular in vast deep blue summer sky. He wanted desperately to run up to the little room and lie on the bed for a while, so that maybe he could work out what he'd been shown. And _why_ he'd been shown. What did this have to do with the ability of the elements add power to elemental spells?

But before he could think on it more, a shadow passed over him blocking out the sun. Winston was standing above him offer his hand, and two hoes held in other.

Harry accepted Winston's help gratefully and stood once more. He was about to bombard him with questions, but the older man cut Harry off with a wave, before he could start.

"You must understand yourself, first," handing him one of the garden tools. "Just listen, you will understand," he told Harry with certainty.

"But?"

Winston shook his head and pointed to the garden, "You will understand."

Harry scowled at this. He was expected to figure out something he could barely comprehend, but he was expected to weed as well? What good would that do? _What_ would he understand?

Harry decided to take whatever side of the garden was furthest from this mad man who'd just led him on a carnival ride of the grandest proportions. At that moment he wanted little to do with any of them. _'Just listen, you will understand,' _he thought to himself in tiny mocking voice, starting with some beans. Listen to what? Sure he knew now that they weren't just plants. But that didn't mean he had the ability to listen to them!

Harry sour mood continued while he worked steadily and silently among the vegetables, relieving the garden of grass and dandelion. He just could not understand what all this was about. Why any of this was relevant to the spells he would acquire to help him defeat Voldemort.

'_No. Don't you dare even think it,'_ he chastised himself. '_You'll do yourself no good to go down that path. You know where it leads.'_

So instead he decided to think of nothing except the work in front of him. Harry was never very good at thinking of nothing. Case in point would be Occlumency. Sometimes he actually would try and clear his mind, but it never worked. There was always something going on for him to think about. Something to slip in there and cause the work he so carefully crafted to slip away before he even realized it. This time, he thought about the plants. Hoping against hope that one of them would leap out at him and answer his questions.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that afternoon Patlyk decided to help with the work in the garden, and joined in the verse that Winston had been singing. Harry didn't understand a word of it that wafted to him, but it was sweet, pleasant-sounding melody that had appeased his previously bitter mood.

And for once, he might have been almost happy to be doing this work. To be doing something that for years he'd regarded as an endless, lonely chore that his Aunt and Uncle had given him to do because it was beneath them, with _'that boy'_ around. But something changed for him when the spirit had showed him the gardens life and the individuals in it. It wasn't so lonely, just quiet. The plants were alive, he could feel it now, but did not say anything directly, which allowed him to think about anything or nothing in particular.

He still hadn't figured out what the okra had been trying to communicate to him. But he felt like the answer was there. Like it was just beneath the surface he couldn't scratch hard enough. The same questions floating over and over again through his mind...

'_They are trying to tell me something, show me something,'_ he thought, as he pulled at a particularly stubborn patch of grass with his hands. _'But what are they trying to tell me, exactly? What could the spirit be trying to show me that have to do with the scenes of their life? '_

But the garden stayed silent, keeping the answers Harry wished would pop out at him and relive his curiosity hidden.

Finally, the weeds and grass gone as far as Harry could see, he set off to join the other men. He was sweaty and tired, but oddly satisfied.

He found Winston and Patlyk at the edge of the garden talking. When they noticed him approaching however, they stopped their conversation to radiate large smiles at him as he neared.

"You're excellent," Winston complimented. "Normally this garden takes me two days to tend. You cut that by half. I thank you." Winston said inclining his head. "Nothing like two young backs to make your day easier."

Harry mumbled something like "Thank You," and "Years of training," but Winston didn't seem to hear him. He asked, "Did you find the answers to your questions?"

Harry hung his head with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. He had no idea that plants could be so mysterious. "No, nothing," he answered, a disappointed sigh right behind it. "I was listening, but they weren't...."

Just then something clicked in Harry's head. Something he'd completely passed over. The epiphany he'd been searching for all afternoon was right there in front of him and he'd barely noticed. He couldn't believe he'd missed the one word that made all the difference.

'They' 

The spirit of the plant hadn't shown him its life. It showed him _their_ life! They were connected somehow. They were all individuals yes, but they had some sort of link, where they could see with the same 'eyes', hear with the same 'ears', think the same 'brain'. They shared a mystical connection to each other.

But _how_?

Harry practically threw the hoe he was holding as he threw his arm to the side, palms up with a forming astonished 'o' in place of his lips. This was only to be met by the knowing, grinning looks of Winston and Patlyk.

"How?"

"We are all connected Harry, not just the vegetables. This is how they will help you, that connection," Winston answered, as if it were something a child should know. Then he clapped his hand together and said merrily to the two young men, "I'm filthy, and starved. I wonder how Jinky's magnificent roast is coming," and turned without another word turned and walked toward the house.

"But...." Harry breathed. He was momentarily stunned, that the man would just leave him hanging there with so many unanswered questions. Why would he just leave?

"_That's it?_" Harry asked no one in particular, although Patlyk was still standing there with an arrogant eyebrow raised in the direction of Winston's retreating form. "Hey Harry, you've been stuck at your rotten relatives for three weeks, but we're going to take you to a on a whirl-wind journey with an _okra_, and not we're not going to tell you _why_ or _how_??? What good does that do me!" he almost yelled, his confusion becoming frustration.

"He won't tell you,'' Patlyk sighed turning back to Harry. "That's his way. He'll just leave you to figure it out for yourself." He gave a divisive chuckle, "I remember this one time when..."

But Harry wasn't listening. He was incensed. This was just like any of the many conversations he'd had with Dumbledore. He'd have just been through the impossible, extraordinary, or supernatural even, and Dumbledore would give him a token note of wisdom and send him on his way to figure out the rest! Harry didn't want to figure the rest out. He didn't want to have to sit there and think about every little aspect of, well everything! Just tell him how to do it, how to get the job done and he'd do it. But OH NO... That was to good for Harry, you had to make him think. Make him exercise his feeble little brain, because he had nothing better to do than to sit around all day figuring out the puzzles and riddles of old men!

Did _they_ even think? Did they ever stop to think that all of this was completely surreal and bizarre to someone who up until 5 years ago had no idea that magic existed? That ghosts and goblins and elves and witches and wizards and bloody Blast-Ended Skrewts did in fact exist? And now normal, unassuming, un-magical plants talked and had some sort of collective conscience that he was supposed to tap into?

"_What-The-Hell!"_ he hissed under his breath, looking at a now vacant front door breaking Patlyk off mid-sentence. "How on earth am I supposed to figure out how to do that? How _they_ do that?" he ranted.

"What's going on here?" a feminine voice asked from behind him.

"Vegetables," Patlyk answered.

"I'm throwing a temper-tantrum, that's what," Harry admitted rounding on Dreia. "How am I supposed to learn how to connect to the elements?"

Dreia looked confused. "Did you not..."

"I did, but Winston was the one that called them. And then I worked in the garden all afternoon trying to figure out what I'd been shown and then..."

"I see," she said cutting him off, realization dawning on her face. She reached out gently for his arm looking him in the eye. He really wanted to know what that sensation she was causing him was. "How did you feel, working the garden after the trip?"

Harry frowned; this was not what he expected to be asked. "Sorry?"

"How did you feel?"

"I um... I don't know exactly?" he answered perplexed, searching her face and demeanor for the answers to his questions. Did how he felt have something to do with the connection?

"How do you feel when you create magic? When you're doing what ever bit of magic you like to create?"

"Good?"

Dreia rolled her eyes, let go of his arm and wiped around and with a flourish of her hand conjured a stack of hay 20 meters away.

"Hit the target," she said turning back to him impassively.

"With what?" he asked, stupidly.

"You head," she deadpanned. "Your wand Harry, use your wand!"

"Oh, right"

Feeling not only ashamed of himself for not keeping his emotions in check, _again_, but also feeling like a complete idiot for not understanding the obvious, he turned toward the target. _'At least neither of them laughed,'_ he thought miserably.

He lifted his wand out of the waistband of his jeans and yelled "_Stupefy_!" A thin, dazzling jet of red coursed out of the tip of his wand and in to the center of the haystack burning a narrow hole through the center, taking some his anger and frustration with it.

"Very good," she said impressed. "Now how do you feel?"

"Good? Glad I don't have 15 owls swooping around my head... yet."

Dreia made a very low, almost inaudible growl in the back of her throat, and her eyes flashed dangerously. Apparently this not what she wanted to hear.

"This would be my queue, to go...find something else I really should be doing... See you at dinner Harry!" he said with false cheerfulness, turning around with purpose toward the house. But before he could move more than an inch, Dreia barked, "Oh no you don't. You'll stay put and observe. Wand at the ready Harry!"

She immediately fell in to a defensive stance, Harry following her lead. He had no idea what was going on, but from the look in her eye and the way her skin seemed to crackle with magic she was not happy with whatever offensive he had caused. _'Yes they are mad, defiantly.'_

She looked him up and down once and muttered something under her breath, and dark line of grey shooting out her hand.

"_Protego!_" Harry cried. He had no clue what the spell was that she shot at him, but has no intention of finding out the effects. Instead side stepped the spell even with the shield, and he fired back with the stunner.

She whirled around and disappeared before the spell reached the spot where she once stood, and hit the ground with a small blast behind it. His eyes darted around the area, wondering momentarily where she'd gone, just before the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

"How do you feel now?" whispered a low deep voice suddenly in his ear, making his skin crawl and his pulse race.

Harry spun in the direction of the voice, shouting the impediment jinx, but there was no one there, save for a shocked Patlyk who jumped out of the way just in time.

A wave of amused laughter came from everywhere and nowhere, as Harry looked around from the source of the voice he could not see.

"How do you feel?" it asked again.

"Where are you," he breathed, his irritation creeping back up again.

"Over here," came Dreia's clear strong voice, now behind him. He spun on his heel to see her lazily leaning against the bale of straw she'd created just moments ago. She was toying with her oddly shaped wand, looking intently in his direction.

"How do you feel?" she called again.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he snapped.

"Not good enough Harry," she threatened. "If you are ever going to make the connection, you need to have more of an emotional vocabulary, other than 'Good.'"

She waved her wand in a complicated pattern producing a current of white flame that raced toward him with astounding speed. Harry, cast the protego shield again but it shattered under the weight of the curse pushing him backward on to the unforgiving ground with a great thump. He barely had time to throw the rest of himself completely flush with the ground before the flame passed over his head, exploding into a bush by the porch, setting it on fire.

"How do you feel?" she asked again, in the same calm, indifferent voice.

"I feel bloody pissed off!" he roared, rubbing the back of his now throbbing head and making to stand once more. "What are you playing at?"

"Trying to get you to open up. You seem to respond to direct conflict," she replied conversationally, "so that is the angle I'm taking. A good ignipugna spell will block that curse bother way."

She moved her palms again, this time forming a jet-black orb of fire between her hands. With a quick shift of her palms the orb flew ominously toward an alarmed Harry, and accelerating the closer to him it got. Not waiting around to find out if the spell she'd mentioned would work against the spell she fired, he quickly cast it, and jump out of the way, hoping for the best.

His hope turned out to be a thin, six-foot tall wall of rippling bright yellow flame. The lemon yellow became a murky orange for a moment as the black fireball exploded against it, before disappearing into the ether.

'Fight fire with fire indeed!' 

Harry stood impressed at his own spell work for just a moment before he was again lurching back into a defensive stance to defending himself against another attack Dreia had launched. From what he could see it was a simple Expelliarmus; but what he didn't see was that is was combined with something more sinister. He raised his protego shield once again, only to have it shatter as whatever it was combined with easily breeze past his broken protection and cut his left ear, sending a trickle of blood down his neck and on to his t-shirt before he could react.

Harry stood still for a moment, wide eyed with shock that she had actually caused him physical harm. _'All of this, just to get a rise out of me? All of this to get me to express myself better? What does this have to do with connecting to the spirits?'_

He raised his hand to his ear to stem the flood of blood before he regained his wits, as he noticed the jet of electric blue being sent his way. He remembered almost too late what the spell was, wary now that she'd managed first blood. But his seeker instincts took over, and managed to get back in the path of the healing spell just in time.

When it hit him, he knew exactly why Winston had appeared so blissful earlier in the afternoon. A felt a wave of calm, and relaxation wash over him, as he closed his eyes against the blue sparkling haze of the spell, letting the perplexing, worrisome duel slip from his mind. It was almost like the imperious curse, only he knew somewhere in the recesses of his mind that he could control it if he wanted. And unlike imperious he could hear clearly, and he coherently through the haze of blue. He was aware of all his senses, but he just didn't care.

The sharp stabbing pains from the cutting hex ceased, as did the throbbing pain his back and his head from when he was thrown backward to the ground. He could feel the cut on the side of his face mend back together, although it was not painful. Rather, it produced a light tickling sensation that felt like a butterfly brushing against the side of his cheek.

Having managed to heal his present injuries, the spell started working past injuries. He felt every broken-bone, every bruise and every cut he'd ever managed accessed and healed anew. Except for one.

As the spell withdrew, the blue mist fading, Harry felt the lightning bolt shape scar on his forehead prickle with irritation. It felt like it had been rubbed raw with steel wool leaving Harry himself irritated and angry. He rubbed it mechanically, once again cursing its existence. He felt helpless knowing that no matter what he did in his life, no matter was good fortune or ill came his way, it all lead back to this scar and the reasons behind it.

He pushed down those thoughts again, and focused instead on his surroundings and the impromptu duel.

Patlyk looked superiorly impassive and slightly annoyed standing off to the side. But the nervous shifting of his feet gave him away. Dreia was studying him with inert curiosity, idly leaning her back against the hay. Harry ignored both of them asked the questions he'd been longing to ask since last night in the kitchen.

"How do you do that, the blue spell? What is it?" he shouted to Dreia.

Even from where he was situated, he could see the corners of her lips turn upwards in a knowing but not telling smile and replied, "You have yet to sufficiently answer my question Harry... "

"What? How I feel? I feel frustrated, confused and annoyed. Is that what you want?"he asked, truly feeling everything he'd mentioned.

"It's a start," she approved, walking slowly toward him. After a few more silent steps she stopped, crossing her arms decisively in front of her, cocking her head to the side thoughtfully. "But not good enough," she expressed lightly.

Before Harry had time to retort he was on the ground again, with no recollection of how he got there. His vision wavered, and his head was throbbing with beginnings of a wicked headache. The vast blue July sky above him wiggled and writhed as Harry groaned out a note of aggravation. _'They are all psycho.'_

For the second time that day a shadow blocked his view of the atmosphere, Dreia now leaning over him, her arms clasped behind her back and her eyebrow cocked.

"Your dead."

"Sorry?" he replied.

"If I were a Death Eater, you'd be dead," she pointed out.

"Are you a Death Eater?" he snapped.

"No," she answered lightly. "That is something we can fix though."

The shadowed girl disappeared from his line of sight. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he was pretty confident he wouldn't like it. He may not have been able to express himself fully, but when he knew something about how he was feeling, he knew it with certainty.

Harry groaned again, wishing away the developing headache so he could roll over see what she was up to. There was no need though. Another shadow crossed the path of his sight. One that made his heart sink in to the pit of his stomach, only for his stomach to want to throw it out in violent fit of nausea

'Death Eater' 

The two words that flashed across his mind caused a horror one only sees when they are on the brink. Had he stopped to think he would have known it was simply Dreia playing a trick on him. But instincts are instincts and seeing the white mask and black robes twice before, they took over in a flash.

He was up on his feet and firing a stunner at the figure before him in mere milliseconds. At this close range he should have been able to take her out in fairly short order. But just as suddenly as she was there, she was gone, and the stunner hit the ground harmlessly some feet away.

He swung around wildly looking to see where she'd gone off to, his heart beating a brutal tattoo in his chest. His breath was shallow, and his teeth chattered from the onslaught of adrenaline running through his veins. He looked to Patlyk from some sort of help but he too had vanished from sight. The grounds around the little cabin were completely devoid of visible human life.

"How do you feel now, Harry?" Dreia's deep soft voice echoed on the gust of wind that traveled over the meadow. Having a second to steady himself, he realized this was part of the 'game'. This did nothing to satisfy the surging dark rage that coursed through him.

'_How dare she!_'

"I feel enraged! Angered! Betrayed! _HOW DARE YOU_!" he bellowed so loudly that flock of small twittering birds in the forest took quick flight with apprehension. He knew an instant later he was over the top, that he really shouldn't be _that_ upset. This was test, nothing more. Yet the utter disgust, the hatred he felt at seeing the same robes that had taken down Sirius, had taken down Cedric, was too much for his already fragile emotional state. It was all he could do to try and contain it and not reduce everything around him to dust out of pure anger.

"Really?" Dreia asked amused from directly behind him.

He pivoted on his heal ready to strike, the hex already on his lips, but she was not there.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" he agitatedly yelled at the top of his lungs searching the meadow for any small sign of movement.

"Call them!" she commanded from nowhere and everywhere at once. "They know where I am! They know where I hide!"

"HOW? NO ONE WILL TELL ME _HOW!_"

"Call them Harry, they seek you too!" wafted her soft singsong voice on another gust of wind. "Feel your anger, take hold of your emotions, connect with them, live them. Call to the garden!"

And he did. He let go of whatever hold he had on his anger and it vanished just as Dreia had in no more than a flash of white-hot rage. His blood boiled, his skin crawled and the only thing he could see through his round wire-framed glasses was red.

Immersed and swimming in his own blood lust over the anger he felt at those who wore the robe and mask he all but missed the light little tickle at the back of his mind. Something he was certain later that had never been there before that day. In his insane, chaotic state he was just reckless enough the give the fluttering green string in the back of his mind a tug.

It was the okra. It was the same shy little spirit of the bizarre looking plant he'd seen the life of only that afternoon. He'd connected. Had he not been so filled with vile, heart wrenching fury he might have been proud of himself.

'_Show her to me!' _he commanded with his brains voice_. 'Show me where she stands! Help me find her!'_

Suddenly he felt more fluttering in the back of his mind, more stings as the whole of the garden reached out of him. They twisted and turned forming one solid, thick, leafy vine. The red he saw before his eyes shifted to tones of greens and browns as the garden readily accepting his demand.

Systematically he searched the grounds with his new sight for the robe and mask. He saw Patlyk sitting on one of the porch rockers anxiously staring at him chewing on his fingernails, rocking back and forth nervously. He saw commotion on of the rooms on the lower floor, and lights turning on and off in the upper. He could smell the fresh, succulent sent of the meal Jinky was providing for supper. He saw movement in the forest, a gust of wind floating over the tops of the trees and down into the valley below it. And then he spotted what he was searching for.

Dreia still robed and masked was standing before the forest facing him, waiting. He was not about to let the moment pass him by as he brandished his wand and sent the most powerful stunning hex he could manage her way.

He expected to see the familiar jet of red streaming its way for the fake Death Eater. He expected for her to dodge or protect. He expected that that duel would once again commence now that he'd found her. What he didn't expect was what happened.

'Stupefy!' 

As the spell erupted from the tip of his wand, the familiar red was braided with the same greens and brown he saw before his eyes. It was twice the length of and width of a regular stunner and took off with such a surge of power that the end of his wand smoked like a gun having just fired off a round.

Dreia didn't move. When the stunner exploded out of the end of his wand she raised her arms in a wide sweeping ark toward the sky, the robes of the Death Eater melting away. She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the heavens and a satisfied smile spread across her lips.

'_No! What is she doing!' _ Harry thought to himself frantically watching the stunner making its progress across the grounds; all traces of his rage and odd vision he'd been looking through to spot her gone seeing her waiting to take the spell full on. This was not right!

"DUCK!" he begged shouting across the field. It was too late though. The stunner made contact with Dreia, right in the middle of her chest. The sparks and glow from the spell enveloping her. The smile faded, her arms dropped, the rest of her body following suit to the unforgiving ground beneath her.

'Shit!' 

Harry began to run as fast as his legs would take toward her prone form lying lifeless on the ground. What this proved, he had no idea. All he knew was that he'd been the cause of it. And if he'd hurt her, if he'd killed her... _'Oh God!'_

"What was she thinking!" a frantic voice yelled some distance behind him. He could hear other feet moving in her direction now over the thumps of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears.

"Teaching of course," another shouted farther behind the first.

Harry skidded to a halt beside her in the shadow of the forest and dropped quickly to his knees. He gently rolled her over on her back looking for signs of life. He anxiously checked her breathing and pulse. Both were present, but shallow and ragged. Her hair was covered in dead leaves and her face and robes were smudged with mud from this morning's thunderstorm. The stunner had hit her hard.

While Harry was busy trying to make sure she was alive, Regulus had joined him on her other side. He was scanning her body up and down with his wand looking for signs of injury; make concerned grunting noises, his face screwed up in concentration. This continued for several minutes while Harry made silent prayers to whatever God was listening. When he was done, he relaxed back on to his calves, rubbing a hand over his face.

He turned to the group now gathered at Dreia's feet and then to Harry. "Broken rib, and possible concussion," he said sighing, running his hand through his hair.

Harry's eyes widened and his heart sank. "She's... She's going to be..." he gulped, "alright. Right?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Regulus mumbled more to himself than everyone else.

Winston piped up, "Come now, man! She was doing her job!" he laughed. "Wonderful spell work Harry!" he said coming around the side and clapping him on the back.

Harry said nothing. He didn't feel like being complimented for what he'd done. As a matter of fact he didn't know what to feel. He was still angry with her for pushing him like that. But he was more worried about the damaged he'd caused because he was angry. Being that it was not an ordinary stunner, but one aided by the spirits of the garden Harry had no idea what kind of damage it could have caused. Why did she have to push him like that?

"Thayne, would you be kind enough to get my bag? I left it in the front hall."

Harry looked up to Thayne's solemn face as he nodded once at Regulus and headed back as quickly as he could toward the house. Harry noticed that the entire household must have come out to see what the commotion was all about because there were many faces in a crowd stationed around Dreia's feet. Some were looking at her with mild concern, while others had smiles. Others still were staring at him directly with mixture on intrigue and admiration. And two older gentlemen were ignoring the situation completely talking merrily about their day at the back of the crowd. The two younger boys were slightly off to the side staring at him wide eyed.

Harry turned back to look at Dreia. He didn't want to exchange pleasantries or try to defend his actions right now. He didn't want to concentrate on anything but making sure she woke up.

Thayne returned moments later carrying a medical satchel with an emblem of two wands crossed over a heart embossed on the front. Regulus accepted the bag with out a word and opened it. He examined several different vials of potion. Some he laid to the side apparently satisfied that they would help Dreia once she woke up. He then reached into the pocket of his royal blue robes, pulling out his wand pointing it at Dreia.

'Ennervate' 

Harry waited with baited breath for her to wake-up, for her eyes to open and for her body to stir. But she didn't. She continued to lay there, motionless. Her breath still ragged, matching the irregular palpitations of her heart.

"Damn," Regulus swore under his breath. "Harry you're going to have to do it. It was your spell."

Harry nodded his head once, and with out question pointed his wand and said the spell. Other than her hair blowing around a bit, her robes ruffling, she didn't wake.

"What do we do now?"

"You'll just have to call the to the garden again." Winston stated wisely. "They helped you do it, they can help you revive her."

"But how? She had to rile every last nerve to get me to do it the first time!"

"You have to wake her up Harry. You have to. We believe it you" Regulus said quietly, stroking stay hairs off Dreia's face.

"But?"

"Think about how you did it when you were... Er... angry," said a tall, dark haired older disheveled gentleman from the back of the crowd. He'd been one of the ones talking about his day at the office. "How did you connect with them to produce the stunner?

Harry lowered his head as he thought about it. He didn't want them to see the shame cross his face as he remembered how angry he'd felt. How angry he still felt. But even in through all his rage he remembered the tickle in the back of his mind.

"There was... something in the back of my head. A little string? Or something?" he said uncertainly. Even after all he been through and seen this whole situation was still odd. "Anyway I grabbed hold of it and... asked the spirit to help me find her."

"GOOD SHOW!" Winston's voice boomed, startling most everyone. He clapped Harry on the back again, almost hard enough to push him over. "Preciously! Preciously! That's the quickest I've seen someone pick that up," he exclaimed to the dark haired man in the back. "Smart lad you are Harry. Smart lad!"

"Can we get on with this Winston? The longer she's out the harder it's going to be to heal her." Regulus pointed out with a sharp look.

"Quite right, quite right," Winston nodded affirmatively; still beaming from ear to ear his large incisors making his bear like appearance almost frightening. "Harry close your eyes and concentrate on finding it again, call them."

Harry blew out a long silent breath of air and did as he was asked. For a few minutes he searched every corner of his brain, every facet, but in the end found nothing.

Frustrated, he searched again. This time he was desperate, desperate to find the small little flutter of sting to connect him with the plants and wake her up. _'Come On! I need your help. I need you to help me wake Dreia, she won't wake!'_ he thought, irritated. It was there before why not now?

But it was. As soon as Harry had called out to them, as soon as he'd reached for them, they were there. His mind seized the sting and held tight, begging the rest to join so he could work his magic.

The sprits of the garden responded just as they had before. Several more stings intertwined with the first creating a long thick vine that Harry firmly attached himself to.

He opened his eyes looking through the same hues of green and brown. He grasped his wand with certainty pointing his wand toward her.

'_Ennervate'_

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A/N I own nothing, JK's the Goddess with the copyrights. Please Review!

Brigade701: Remember that they are in separate beds. She just has to be close to him to keep the spell going. Thanks for reviewing!

Lord Sauron the Deciever: I'm so glad you like it. The Celtic Arts will be a big theme in this story. I'm honestly a little surprised there are not more like it. Ever read Mists of Avalon or any of the prequels? wink.

To everyone: I am sorry this update took so long. I've been working on getting rid of some plot issues and having someone beta the story. I've noticed some grammatical mistakes that I am slowly but surely taking care of. I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	7. Last Words

**Chapter 7 Last Words.**

Harry held his breath as Dreia's eyes snapped open. She stared blankly at the sky above for a moment and then blinked slowly looking around as if waking from a long nap. She looked first to Regulus, then the crowd, then Harry. A slow, proud smile formed on her muddy face.

"You found it," she croaked, and then coughed to clear her voice. "Good Job."

"Are you all right?" Harry asked tentatively. The hues of green and brown had left his sight again, and he was left with an empty feeling looking at her.

"Of course I am," she defended, propping herself up on her elbows wincing a little along the way. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Hairline fracture on your rib, and a concussion," Regulus answered curtly, grabbing the vials of potion roughly and handing one to her.

"Impressive," she breathed, holding out a hand to accept the potion Regulus was offering. She presented too him a large, bright grin that said what ever Harry may feel about the situation, she was more than pleased with the out come. _'That at least makes one of us'_

She looked down at it warily her smile switching to a grimace and she downed the vile in gulp trying her best to sputter.

"Euuuuyhhh. That disgusting," she complained, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as vile smell of cabbage and grains wafted it's way under Harry's' nose. "How many more?" she inquired.

"Two."

Dreia rolled her eyes and drank the rest of the potions given to her. She looked curiously around at the milling crowd and asked, "What's everyone doing out here anyway?"

"They followed me out here… I was watching your 'teaching methods,' and I may have been a little over enthusiastic to get out here." Regulus answered.

"That large a spectacle, eh?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows, gesturing toward the crowd.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and muttered, "Sorry about that…"

Dreia smiled indulgently, "If it was enough to get that lot out of their evening chairs then I'm happy. Oh Harry don't look so down, it was just a stunner…"

"Just a…?" he breathed. "I've never, _never_ produced one so powerful. I was _angry_ Dreia… Why did you push me like that?"

"Because, " she said with certainty, "in order to find the connection sometimes people need a bit of push... Of course that was more like a shove…"

"Dreia, wait until the potions start working, alright? Then you can talk to him," Regulus said with just enough authority to be both stern, and yet caring in the face of an unruly patient. "Sorry Harry, but she need rest for just a moment. We'll move her to the porch and then you can talk," he said glancing at Harry for a second and then looking back at Dreia too see if he'd receive argument. "How are you feeling, _really_?"

She cocked her head to then back again as if contemplating and shifting her limbs and screwing up her eyes. "It hurts like hell that's for sure," she admitted. "But I don't think I'll need help to the porch. It's just a broken bone and a headache," she dismissed causally, leaving Harry too wonder why exactly she was brushing all of this off so easily. He certainly wasn't. His nerves we still -although considerably less so- on edge, and he was truly ashamed of himself that he'd allowed himself to get so enraged.

Regulus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "good" under his breath that Harry was pretty sure was a response to her first statement. Dreia scowled at him for a moment but didn't retort. She looked instead to the bustling crowd at her feet and told them all that she was fine that she would be in directly, asking them all to return to the house. "Really, there's nothing to see. I'll be fine and so will our guest. Go on. Get!"

The some of the members of the crowd laughed wished her well as the rest sauntered easily back the cabin. Regulus checked and rechecked Dreia over with pokes, prods and waves of his wand, much to her disapproval. "You're like an old women Reggie. I'm fine, _really_."

To prove her point she stood quick as flash, brushing of the debris off her robes and clearing her face and hair with a quick spell. There was no mistaking the grimace she made as she moved though, and Regulus shook his head disapprovingly. "You'll need that wrapped before you sleep. Promise me you'll come to me or do it yourself?" he asked.

"Of course," she said indulging him. "Thank you Reggie."

Dreia kissed him quickly on the cheek, turned to Harry with bright eyes that said she wanted nothing more to do with being fussed over and indicated that they should start moving.

The walk to the porch was a slow one. Harry could tell the Dreia was trying her best not to show him exactly how much pain she was in, but was failing miserably. It was in the stiffness of her back, the way she flinched just slightly if the hit an uneven patch of earth, the fact that this girl whom has been so light footed in the duel just minutes ago, was now walking as if to a death march. Still, she seemed to dismiss all of it looking rather deep in thought.

Although there were a good number of questions that he wanted to ask, he couldn't bring himself to speak. His Gryffindor resolve had left him and in the end he shifted his hands into his pockets and kept up with her pace. If she didn't want to burden him with her ills than Harry was more than willing not too point them out. Especially since it made him feel so bloody awful to know he was the cause of it. '_A broken bone and a headache'_ he thought pursing his lips together in disapproval. All of this just to teach him how to connect to the power of plants? If Neville only knew…

Harry gritted his teeth and kicked some loose stones in the grass letting his mind wander back over the duel trying to figure out just where everything went wrong. What he could of have done differently, what he could have done to stop himself changing what he felt was the unforgivable outcome. He'd swore to himself at the beginning of the summer that he'd never put someone in danger again because he'd failed to keep his emotions in check. But no matter how hard he tried to reason with himself the there was another way to go about it, some distant hindsight that would convince him that it would be different if he'd taken a breath here, or reasoned better with himself there, it all came back down to one simple fact. He'd lost his temper and control and no matter how much she'd wanted it to happen, he'd let it, and it had hurt her.

"Druids believe that everyone and everything is connected, " she began with out preamble pulling Harry rapidly our of his own musings and almost making him stop in his tracks. "A connection exists between all living things from the mitochondria in our systems to the grandest of mountains and beyond."

"Wizard kind and Muggle kind alike can tap into it, can use it to commune with the rest of nature… Talk to the plants… the animals… the elements. We can also use it to our advantage as you just demonstrated for yourself. Asking the elements for help with a spell can help amplify our own human magic as it is a _type_ of magic in it's own right. But, it is at once more powerful, more scared than what runs in our bodies. It is part of the magic and song of the universe, and everything that it encompasses."

'_Well that answers some questions,'_ Harry thought sardonically trying to pull himself together enough to understand what she was saying, when really it didn't.

Dreia grinned at his confused expression and spread her arms wide. "Look, look at all the is around you that is natural," she said looking around to emphasize her point, "me, you, the plants, the earth, planets, stars, everything. We are all part of the universe. The elements are simply parts of the whole. Earth, Air, Fire, Water are merely categories for what creates, nourishes and destroys life."

"But, they are also more than just categories. They are the 'spirit' the essence of the element they represent. Water for example. The element of water represents lakes, rivers, oceans, seas, and even the water in our own bodies. The element of water is the combined 'spirit' of all these things."

"When you call upon the elements, you are asking the spirit to draw from the powers of that element to help you with your spell. One of the reasons it is effective to ask for help from the element of water to cast a rain charm. Of course, as you saw when you asked the garden to help you with your stunner and to find me, it doesn't always have to be an elemental spell that you ask the elements for help with."

"If everyone has the ability to speak with nature on that level, then why don't they?" Harry asked.

Dreia answered with a shifty smile and a nod of her head. "The knowledge of how to contact the elements and have them help us is sacred. It's more than just contacting them to help with a spell, which certain. It's honoring them and all of nature. Returning the gift that we have taken. It's not just another skill to learn, it is more a way of life. To live in harmony with nature, and understand the way the universe works. Although it sounds easy enough, it takes a certain type of person to be able to reach beyond themselves and be one with these things."

"Do you believe I am this type of person?"

"After what I've seen today, I think you are. I just question why it is only now that Dumbledore would send you to us. But that's a question for another day," she amended.

It wouldn't be the first time Dumbledore had hid him away from something, Harry thought to himself. But unlike other time when he would be livid by the injustices in his life, he just couldn't muster up enough anger at yet another trick up the old man's sleeve after letting in all out during the duel.

Instead, he thought about what she has said and about the amount of power it would have taken to produce such a powerful stunner. It was, now that he thought about it, impressive.

"Will this happen every time I try to stun someone using the connection?" Harry asked quietly.

Dreia chuckled softly and replied, "I certainly don't think so. Remember when I told you that your emotions could quantify and drive magic?"

"Is that what happen? You...oh. _Oh_." Harry suddenly understood. "You made me angry on purpose so that I would not only realize it was there, but to drive my magic to its fullest…."

"_And_ too show you that it's not only magic that can be amplified by emotions but elemental magic as well. _And_ to get you in touch with the connection sooner rather than later because really, it's not that hard to do if you know what you're looking for. _And_ too make you realize just how upset you are and that burring those feelings is no good," she agreed. "_And_ so that you would see that it's a really good idea to deal with all of your grief before you do it someone else. _And_ too show you what a force you'll be if you have to."

"You could take over Slytherin's head of house with all those sub-plots," Harry pointed out, carefully avoiding what she was getting at.

"Slytherin? Oh yes… Severus' house," she nodded her head remembering. "Here sit in that chair, I'll show you."

Harry walked up on to the porch and sat in one of the weather beaten rocking chairs while Dreia reached up for on the hanging herb baskets that lined the porch. She carried it over to him slowly, wincing when she took a breath making Harry shift uncomfortably.

"Cast an engorgement charm on the herb," she said holding out the basket in front of him. Harry pulled his wand out, spoke the incantation and the herb grew to twice its normal size.

"Perfect," she complimented, and with a wave of her hand the spell was reversed. "Now this time, I want you to call to the element of earth. In your mind speak clearly, strongly –but don't demand, they don't like it- and say _'Element of earth I seek your help my spell'_ and use the engorgement charm again on the herb.

Harry drew a long deep breath letting it spill out of him mouth freely. He closed his eyes, asking in his head for the element of earth to come and help him make the herb grow larger. He was delighted to see the recognizable vine creep its way into the back of his mind. It wasn't as strong or as wild, as it was before. It was different than the look of the garden, but Harry mentally grabbed hold anyway finally excepting that the Druids knew what they were talking about. He opened his eyes expecting to see the hues of brown and green he'd seen through earlier, but this time it was less prominent. More like everything had been dusted with the colours rather than painted with them.

"_Engorgio!"_ he cast and the herb grew to four times its size. Harry raised his eyebrows impressed as the hues faded from his vision. "And that's how it works when I am calm…" he noted.

"When your emotions are mostly in check, yes," she smiled sitting down in the rocker beside him. "Imagine what would happen if you were as angry as you were when you sent the stunner at me. We'd have more parsley than we'd know what to do with!"

Harry smiled, but was certain it didn't meet his eyes. He stood and replaced the hanging basket now overflowing with parsley on its hook, scanning the meadow.

"So, if I'm angry, or happy even casting the a spell using the connection it will double the effect?"

"With your talent and range of emotions, if you were as angry as you were, or happy as you were angry, you could possibly supply the whole of Italy's parsley needs for six months."

"I'm not that fond of parsley," he murmured.

"Which is why you must live it, and get rid of it," she said simply.

"Make that up all by yourself, did you?" he replied dryly, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. He knew what she was going with this thread of conversation, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Harry… you're avoiding the issue."

"I'd really rather not talk about it…" he sighed.

"Tough."

Harry frowned turning to meet a set on no nonsense blue eyes.

"Look," he tried to placate, "I'm really sorry I got that upset and that I hurt you… but I'm…" he sighed and sat back down in the chair next to her. "I'm just not ready."

"Tough."

"What do you mean – _tough_?" he repeated, looking at her as though she'd grown an extra head.

"I mean, _tough._ Harry, Sirius is gone and there in nothing you can do about it except make him happy and live out the rest of your life. In order to do that, you have to out live Voldemort, and make a life for yourself. You cannot do that by wallowing in your own self-pity! Don't you think these are the things he would want?" she asked stiffly.

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment mouth slightly open trying to comprehend exactly what the hell she thought she was doing. Who gave her the right to confront him on this particularly painful subject?

"We'll never know will we?" he finally replied with sarcastic smile that quickly turned to a scowl rising from his seat. He turned to walk into the house and up to the guest bedroom, but from behind him he heard a whisper.

"Sorry?" he asked, more out of habit than actual need to know.

"Sirius was writing you this the day he died," she repeated holding out a sheet of parchment for him. "He dreamt about it."

Harry regarded the proffered parchment before him warily. "He… knew?" he whispered not daring to take his eyes off what she claimed were the supposed last words of Sirius Black.

"I found it in his bedroom while I was at #12. I nicked it to show you should you need it."

Harry sat back down in the unoccupied rocker next to Dreia slowly. He accepted the folded sheet of parchment with a tremor and held it between his hands remembering not for the first time the scent of shaggy black dog fur and the look of sunken grey eyes, closing his own and taking in a large breath of air.

"I…. Can't," he choked.

"You must."

"I…"

Harry opened his sore eyes. He'd been through so much so quickly he didn't know what to say, what to think. Emotional exhaustion threatened to consume him as his brain fought wearily to process this new horrifying scene. All he knew what the he was holding in his hands the very last thing his beloved godfather had written _ever_... And according to Dreia he knew he'd die when he'd written this letter. But…

"How many have read this?" he quietly asked.

"Just myself that I am aware of," she said placing a calming hand on his knee. "It's just a collection of thoughts, Harry. Nothing more."

"Why you?" Turning to face her, the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. "Why did you have to give this to me?"

"Because I'm a stranger. You owe me nothing."

Harry's thoughts raced to the night of Sirius' death and the revelation of the prophecy. "I owe you more than you think," he replied softly.

Dreia reguarded him curiously for a moment, searching for something it seemed she couldn't place.

"Death is but the next great adventure," she mused.

"Dumbledore said that."

"_All the Druids say that."_

Harry's eyes widened. "Dumbledore is?"

Dreia said nothing but offered a simple wink as confirmation. "I daresay you'll need a few moments. I'll go and check on dinner shall I?"

She raised herself out of the chair wincing once or twice. She walked by Harry and ruffled his hair some. "Harry, stand up," she requested.

He stood at once and was rewarded before he could blink with a tight, warm hug. At first he was exactly sure how to react, or how to respond. Human touch was still such a foreign concept to him that he felt as thought his very skin was crawling right off his body with some terrible yearning when it did happen. In the end though, he wrapped his own arms around her and buried his head in the to scent of lavender and wood feeling better for having done so.

"If your Sirius is anything like my Regulus than he'd want you to move on. The Druids believe that the soul is immortal; we go on living different lives on different planes of existence until ultimately we reach the source. Just because Sirius is not with you here, does not mean that he is not with you else ware, Harry," she whispered softly somewhere behind his ear. "How could he forget someone who obviously loved him so much? When the time is right, I'll show you."

"It's so… hard letting go… I…" he murmured, his voice breaking.

"But you must," she said squeezing him tightly once and then letting go.

She smiled brightly at him and squeezed both his arms. "You'll need a few moments, come on in when your ready."

Harry tried to smile back, but he couldn't quite make the muscles in his face work the way he wanted them to. So he settled for a grimace and nod of his head.

He looked again over the meadow and he called after her before she was half way through the door. "Dreia? What are those things anyway?"

She followed his line of sight and grinned. "Buffalo."

"Like Water Buffalo?"

"No, like American Bison," she replied, and slipped in the cabin.

Harry sat down again stared at the somewhat wrinkled parchment in his hands. He laid it in his lap and rubbed his tired eyes wondering if he dared to open it, too see what Sirius' last words of advice or comfort for him were.

He could only imagine what they were as he took a deep breath, despite it all desperate for one last vestige of his godfather and unfolded the letter.

_Harry,_

_I had a bit of kip this afternoon, and in doing so I dreamt the strangest things. _

_First of all dreaming for me has been luxury I've not been afforded since the days before my unfortunate incarceration. In Azkaban the demntors don't even let you escape the harsh realities of your life in dreams. And even after my escape, I've not been able to produce even a shadow of one._

_But this afternoon, dream I did and what I saw scared me, which is why I am writing this letter. A letter I might add, I hope you never get._

_I dreamt I died in some horrific accident I can quite remember. But what I do remember is that because of my death you became wholly depressed, and rebellious and sought to avenge my death. I felt horrible watching you waist away to nothing because I died._

_The dream was so real, so pliable, I've done nothing but pace for the past few hours in this lonely old prison trying to figure out a way to reach you, to talk to you. The dream was so real ..._

_Listen to me kid and listen well. I want you to know right here and now that however I die; IF I die I want you to go on. The world needs you. James and Lily did not die protecting you so that you could waste away to noth….._

Sirius Blacks last hastily written words ended right there. In ink was spattered and smudged, letters crooked and incomplete. Harry figured it was the first draft of what ever he was trying to communicate to him. He could only imagine him sitting there writing out this note while someone gave him the news that Harry and his friends were trapped at the Ministry and how upset he'd been when he wrote it.

One thing was clear though; Sirius was horrified at the prospect of Harry being upset about his death. He didn't want Harry to be depressed and downhearted at his passing. He would want Harry to move on…

Harry let out a long weighty sigh. It was all find and dandy for Sirius to want him to move on, but what about Harry? Did he even want to move on?

Harry's red-rimmed eyes that matched the color of the horizon and setting sun finally tore away from the last words written by his godfather and stared blankly at the meadow.

'_Yes,'_ he decided. Tired of the pain he tried so hard to bury. Tired of the second-guessing about that night and what he could have done differently. But how could he? How could he give the man that had meant so much to him up?

Harry's heart settled in his stomach and his bones filled with undeniable sadness that made ache just to move. He stared out at the meadow that was bathed in the red and oranges and typical rapidly approaching summer sunset wondering what would be like to live that type of peace? To know the rest and comfort of the very nature that surrounded him. Too be free of the world's burdens and death. Too have a free Sirius laughing and making some ridiculous gesture at the mildly grazing beasts of the meadow and try to heard them all in his animagius form.

'_Sirius'_

He thought if he looked hard enough long enough he could see his godfather doing those very things, romping around freely amongst the flora and fauna. He could see his shaggy mane of hair, his handsome appearance and the looks of approval and love he'd often craved but never received until the man walked into his life.

Harry's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he refolded the note and stuck it into the pocket of his jeans. He had no idea where he'd go from here, but one thing was for certain… he would go.

'_I miss you Sirius'_

He sat back in the old rocker and watched the fading light for sometime, thinking about what little good time's he'd had with the man, and even more of the bad. He thought about all he owed this one man who for only two short years had such profound effect on him. On how much he wished he could tell him how much he meant to him.

The sun sank lower and lower over the mountains while he sat there reminiscing. All traces of the chaotic last few days sweeping away into oblivion while he remembered a man name Sirius Black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N. So here it is. I've written, re-written, this chapter and somehow managed to turn it into two. _Finally_.

Hopefully this answered a few of your questions and concerns about Harry reaching the connection so quickly.

Moving on…

Frustrated. It was over the top and a mass of emotions on purpose just as this chapter ended up being. Dreia explains why in this chapter. Remember also the Harry is an emotional wreck at the end of OotP. I am attempting to swiftly move him past that.

SheWho'sNameMustBeHyphanated. It wasn't planned that way, but it certainly turned out that way, didn't it? There won't be anymore for a while, so thank you so much for your review and I hope you enjoy the rest of the show!

And as always…

I own nothing, JK's the Goddess with the copyrights. Please Review!


	8. Of Crones and Crossroads

**Chapter 8. Of Crones and Crossroads.**

"Er…Harry?" a young steady voice said pulling Harry out of his reverie sometime later. He looked around almost blindly at first, not having taken in the sight of his surroundings in awhile and looked up at the soft, young, timid face of Thayne Brewster.

"Hi," Harry managed.

"Listen, supper's almost ready and I've... come to … apologize," he stammered out so quickly Harry wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly.

"For?"

"Er… being rude earlier. I'm not normally like that," he defended, "But it's not every day you walk out on your front porch and find … well… _you_, standing there. It was…" he hesitated for a moment and said, " I don't know what it was, I'm sorry," he finished, hiding his hands in his pocket and looking anywhere but Harry.

"No, no… I've found out exactly what it's like recently," he mused, remembering his, 'introduction' to Regulus the night before. "Your reaction was a bit better than mine."

"Tell you what," Harry said trying to put the stiff boy at ease hoping some good natured joking would complete the task, even if it meant risking some of his own embarrassment, "You tell me where you got those posters, and take them _down_, and all is forgiven."

Thayne paled, his eyes bulged and his mouth forming and perfect fish like 'o'. "They told you about that did they?" he barely whispered.

Harry laughed, "Yea… but listen, don't worry about it. Just… really, I'm only a person, nothing more."

Thayne looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it nodding his head and looking at his feet.

"Come on," Harry said, not wanting to push the issue further, "I'm ravenous."

Harry rounded the door and called out behind him, "I _would_ like to know where you got those posters from, " he said, eliciting a small, uncomfortable smile from Thayne.

Dinner that night was a bustling brouhaha of an affair. The kitchen was filled to the brim with laughter, conversation and the occasional heated discussion. The succulent smell of well-prepared roast, and baked potatoes and broccoli filled the air while Jinky was busily shooing would be thieves to the table who were stealing bits of dinner off the counters where she was completing the final preparations.

Harry noticed that room seemed larger than it was previously, easily giving the many occupants enough room to move around.

Truth be told, Harry was a little nervous standing in the doorway. He only knew a few of these people and the one he did know, he didn't know very well. Which he thought was completely absurd. Shy was not something he normally was. _'Cautious'_ he thought trying put some reasoning but his sudden inability to make a complete entrance into the kitchen. And who wouldn't be after the life he'd had? Or indeed the _afternoon_ he'd had. The first time he'd seen any of these people he'd been kneeling beside Dreia's still body having been knocked out by one heck of a powerful stunner produced by his raving teenage self.

So he stood there, "cautious." Content to be a wallflower for a few minutes before joining the hustle and bustle of the evening congregation. He searched the crowd for those he knew and picked out Regulus first suppressing a small shudder. The man was laughing and smiling just like Sirius often did at whatever conversation he was having with the older gentlemen with the brown tailcoat and wispy gray hair. His smile was very similar to Sirius' Harry reflected. Warm, caring, if not a little mischievous.

There were differences though, Harry could see now. The mans eyes were dark green instead of gray. He carried himself a bit more properly than Sirius did and he was much taller than his older brother. The hair a bit darker, the jaw more square, and he didn't possess the worn out wasted look due to 12 long years with the Dementors. Although there was an unmistakable soreness in his eyes that Harry couldn't help wondering about.

"It's not polite to lurk in doorways," Thayne whispered from behind him before he had a chance to size up any more differences between his late godfather and his dead brother. Harry turned to the side and stretched out his hand into the kitchen allowing Thayne to pass. "Lead the way."

Not knowing any of the people in the kitchen, with the acceptation of Regulus and Thayne, Harry lowered himself into the first available seat next to a younger man with short cropped blond hair, and large protuberant jaw who was downing some odd concoction the looked somewhere between coffee and mud. The man smiled as he put down his drink and proffered his hand, "Gio," he said by way of introduction. Harry shook the mans large callused hand and introduced himself. "Aye, who else could have swept our Dreia off her feet?"

"Very nice Gio, very nice indeed," mocked Dreia's deep voice behind him. "He's been here less than a second and you're already in on him."

Gio winked at Harry and then feinted innocence, "Only a slayer of Dragon's and Dark Wizards could make you swoon such dear lady."

Harry could feel rather than see Dreia roll her eyes from her position behind him, "Is that the best you could come up with?"

"I could sing you a sonnet."

"That… er… won't be necessary, thanks, " Harry interjected.

"Gio here is a bit of tease. Brilliant though," she mentioned patting Harry lightly on the shoulder.

"Solicitors aren't brilliant, Dreia.,." he said ignoring her compliment, "So, Harry, How are you enjoying your stay so far?" Gio asked him before taking another sip of his drink.

"It's been interesting to say the least, " Harry murmured.

"I'd expect so, " Gio agreed. "It's not everyday your welcomed openly into a Druid circle."

"Harry, would you like me to introduce you to everyone?" Dreia asked, sitting down across from the two of them.

"Yea, that'd be great," he said quietly, still a bit nervous. So it was with the utmost humiliation the Dreia tapped the side of her glass with her fork trying to gather everyone's attention. "Guys, Hey guys!" she called moderately, although it carried across the kitchen well. Still some completely ignored the summons and continued with their discussions.

"HEY! You lot!" she yelled loud enough to make everyone stop in their tracks and stare.

It did nothing to faze her though. She simply smiled and announced, "I think introductions are in order before supper. Everyone, this is Harry," she gestured toward him. "Harry, I would like you to meet Weylin, " nodding toward the older gentleman with beady dark eyes, who'd been speaking with Regulus. "And Tor," she said waving a hand toward a middle-age man, who was small, but broad, and who had long dark hair and a salt and pepper mustache. "And Beardsley, " who, despite his name looked fresh and young and could have easily have been one of Harry's classmates. "And Travis," who was also middle-aged, but balding. "And this is Nordin, our Banker," she said nodding to the man to his left. "And finally we have Alfred, our Auror, and John and Elmore, our proprietors."

"It's nice to meet you all," Harry said, mustering up a bit of Gryffindor courage. But funnily enough none of them look at him with anything but welcome, if not a bit of mild curiosity. He was certain that at least one of them would be upset about the fact they he'd knocked Dreia out. This, at least on the surface did not seem to be the case.

Most of them eventually walked up and shook his hand or greeted him with a friendly pat on the back and made small talk about his exploits at Hogwarts and life in general. Regulus made his way over at one point to check-up on Dreia. He then asked if he could do a quick scan of Harry explaining that he wanted to make sure he'd not over-taxed himself using so much magic that afternoon. Harry politely declined and Regulus nodded once and said he understood; though he did look mildly disappointed.

Supper was soon on the table and everyone dug into Jinky's delicious meal with relish, including much to Harry's surprise, herself. Salt and peppershakers floated aimlessly around the table at the ready for anyone in need. The man named Nordin at one point conjured a flute and set it to playing to jolly, happy tune in the corner of the room to accompany dinner. The two younger boys engaged in a tug-of-war of the some dinner rolls and the adults engaged themselves in peaceful mealtime conversation.

Harry was content to sit back and quietly listen to the laughter and stories. After three weeks in the Dursley household it was nice to spend time with people who liked each and weren't on hostile terms.

Soon enough the dinner dishes were cleared and were set to washing themselves in dishwasher and sink. A delicious treacle tart was served for pudding, which Dreia whispered in his ear, after claming a seat beside him, was in honor of his stay because it was his favorite; something else she'd found out about him in the course of her research.

All too soon the tart was devoured and their bellies full. Several of the men whipped out long stemmed pipes smoking various flavors of aromatic tobacco that formed an arid cloud in the air over the table. Harry stretched his arms above his head letting out a long slow yawn and turned to tell Dreia that he intended to turn in for the night. He was tired after such a long, eventful day and the fact that it was somewhere in the middle of the night his time didn't help matters much. But she wasn't there.

He scanned the kitchen looking for sign of her, thinking it would be rude to leave with out telling someone, when he heard Gio say next to him, "She had a floo call… She'll be back."

"Thanks," Harry replied.

He waited another ten minutes growing slightly impatient and almost falling asleep twice in his seat. He was about to go find her when she finally appeared back in the doorway to the kitchen.

Dreia scanned the room swiftly and moved around the room to whisper something urgently in Regulus' ear. Harry watched as Regulus' face contorted in a myriad of controlled alarm, concentration and then acceptance. When she was through, she looked at him questioningly and he sighed and shook his head yes agreeing silently to whatever she'd asked him. She nodded once herself confirming the deal and then turned studiously to speak to the kitchen.

"Eden, Jeremiah, I need you two to run off to your rooms for a little while. This won't take long."

The boy looked as though they were about to protest, but with one look at the seriousness in her eyes and the boys slouched off for their rooms. She then asked Thayne to accompany them to make sure they stayed well out of trouble, and earshot.

Nordin stopped the magical flute with a wave of his hand and the rest of the crowd waited for her to speak. Harry observed that some of them seemed apprehensive while other's board. Still, all of them were silent with some semblance of respect waiting for whatever news Dreia was to share.

Dreia followed the sounds of the begrudged footfalls with her eyes up the stairs and down a hall before she was satisfied. She sucked in a large amount of air a began morosely, "As most of you know, while Harry's stay is short and there is virtually no chance of him being traced here, we still need to exercise a fair amount of caution. That caution we will have to up tonight as I have some bad news. The Order of Phoenix has recently received confirmation that the Death Eaters sent to Azkaban in June have escaped. While this in not unexpected, it does mean that I will need you all to check and strengthen the wards."

"When did this happen?' Weylin asked immediately.

"Last night. They took the Death Eaters and anyone who wanted to join his cause," Harry answered with out thinking, immediately regretting he had.

Complete and absolute silence encapsulated the kitchen as several people were looking at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity, while other looked between Dreia and Harry confused.

"How do you know, Harry?" John's asked, his thin messy eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.

Harry regarded the questions cautiously. He didn't know these people and didn't know who among them besides Dreia knew about his connection with Riddle. But he knew the what he'd said was true, just as he knew there was a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He had no idea why he knew, but he did.

Harry shifted his place in his seat a little, but before he could answer Dreia had taken over the task for him.

"The would fall under the 'Things about Harry you won't be privilege to' we discussed last meeting. But… let's put it this way. Harry has precognitive abilities when it comes to Voldemort. One of the very reasons we must keep him protected."

Harry had little clue what precognitive abilities were, but it seemed to satisfy the crowd, their curiosity and concern turning to acceptance and respect; which boggled Harry's mind. Back at home, he might have received cautious glances, sympathetic eyes, and maybe a sneer or two. But here, here these people accepted and respected the fact that he had this atrocious connection with the most powerful dark wizard in centuries? He truly didn't understand it. Nor did he understand why these people never flinched at the feared name.

Harry felt nervous and sick. It worried him that he knew when the Death Eaters had escaped. It worried him that he knew that they had taken anyone willing join Voldemort's ranks. It also worried him that he knew there was more to the story than that.

Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses and sunk his head between his hands. This whole day while fascinating had been emotionally demanding and arduous. He wanted nothing more than to sink into bed and sleep away his troubles for a while and escape the harsh realities that plagued his life.

Soon enough the Druids had begun to move about the kitchen and talking in small circles gathering objects out of satchels and bags obviously having been dismissed to strengthen the wards around the property. Harry briefly wondered how far out the wards extended and how many of them were in place. Winston said this afternoon that there were wards in place to keep the Ministry out of their affairs and that it was unplotable, but he didn't know much beyond that.

He jumped slightly as a warm, comforting hand was placed on his shoulder. Dreia sat down beside him regarding him carefully.

Harry puffed up his chest and blew hard letting his frustration go with it. He faced the table and murmured quietly, "I really need some sleep."

She looked at him curiously and narrowed her eyes.

"What would you like to dream about tonight?"

He turned and regarded her over the top of his glasses. "I have a choice?"

"Well, within the confines of my own experience anyway," she smiled apologetically.

"Anything as long as I can escape for a bit," he sighed.

Dreia squeezed his shoulder once and patted him on the back softly. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"You're not going to help with the wards?" Harry asked.

"Nah… let the men take care of it," she smiled. "It'll be all right… it's just a precautionary measure."

They said their goodnights and headed up to the guestroom. Dreia left him at the door saying that she needed to check on the boys and let Thayne out of his babysitting duties. Harry changed quickly into his pajamas and laid his dressing gown at the end of the bed and crawled under the light summer duvet. He folded his long arms behind his neck and stared at the ceiling making a futile attempt to clear his mind. Small niggling little facts and memories kept seeping their way through his carefully constructed obliviousness leaving him slightly frustrated and eventually causing him to give up. He rolled on his side looking out the window and the rapidly disappearing lights of Lumos that covered the grounds wondering again what the Druids were going to do to strengthen the wards.

Dreia entered the room a few minutes later again dawning a pair of surgical scrubs. Harry could help but smirk while Dreia reminded him of her quest of chivalry.

Dreia was about to cast her charm on his but Harry asked her to wait.

"Er… about the choice… Could I make…a request?" Harry had no idea why the thought had just landed in his head, but he couldn't get rid of it and frankly he didn't want to. Maybe living vicariously through someone else would help ease his pain some, help him to feel better. On the other hand it might leave him feeling depressed that he'd never had the opportunity to experience such a thing. He didn't know, but he wanted to try.

"Could you, share with me a… memory of you… and Regulus?" he swallowed.

However Dreia felt about what he asked she kept her face pleasantly neutral not giving anything away. She looked up to the ceiling thinking for a moment, before letting a slow smooth grin raise the corner of her mouth. "I've just the thing," she announced, and then with a wave of her hand cast her spell.

Harry turned over making himself comfortable and closed his eyes whispering a groggy thank you and falling fast into a deep, restful sleep.

* * *

"_Reggie! Reggie!" the little girl cried running full tilt toward her guardian clutching a hand full of weeds. He kneeled down on one knee and raised his arms catching her and spinning her around, then carefully placing her back on the ground._

"_Reggie! The centipede, it talked to me! Look!" she squealed. "Just as Winston said it would!"_

_She held up the long blades of grass and thistle to illustrate. A thick, long, reddish-brown, many legged creature was sitting up right and arching it's back threateningly at the pair._

"_That's… interesting Dreia, " Regulus said skeptically. "What did it tell you?"_

"_It told me all about the grass and the forest and the birds… It doesn't like birds much, Reggie… And then it told me that it wanted to be put down, but I told it I wanted to show you first and oh look at the feet Reggie, he looks like he could climb for miles straight up into the sky and onto the moon! Winston says there isn't anything tall enough to reach her, but I heard the muggles have landed on her, and oh what I wouldn't do to go to the moon and be one with her and feel the light of sun. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" she asked, finishing the tirade of things she'd learned today, while the helpless centipede bounced up and down on the blades of grass in her little hand._

"_Yes, it would be pip-squeak," Reggie said with fatherly fondness in his voice. "Where is Winston?"_

"_Over by the garden showing Patlyk how to weed properly. He's been pulling up all the okra! I've never seen Winston so mad before, Reggie," she said, ending with a frown._

"_Then it's just you, me and the centipede," Regulus said lifting her up on to his hip. "Can you show me how to talk to the little creature?"_

"_You mean you don't know? But you know _everything_ Reggie! How could you not know how to talk to the bugs?"_

_Regulus smiled down at the little girl and said, "Not everything, little one. Sometimes…" he trailed off reflecting on something just beyond her shoulder. They nearly made it to the cabin before he spoke up again, although quietly so. "Sometimes older people like me have to learn new things, new ways of life," he said, walking her toward the cabin. "Sometimes, we don't want to. Sometimes, it's to much work." Regulus shook his head and smiled softly down at his little companion. "But sometimes we get lucky, and the things we didn't want to learn, or the things we never got a change to are easier than we expect. Do you understand?"_

"_No," she said quizzically, frowning at him. "But I can teach you to talk to the centipede. I promised it wouldn't be hard… Oh _please_, let me teach you?"_

_Regulus placed Dreia on the uppermost step to the porch and stat down roughly beside her. Dreia regarded him curiously while he propped his arms up on his knees and placed his reflective, by smiling face in his hands, and said, "I'd like nothing more…"_

_

* * *

_

Harry's eyes burst open as the first rays of daylight were making their way into window and on to his face. He deftly rolled over, ever muscle and bone creaked and stretched oddly in protest, but the thought racing through his mind begged to be answered.

"Regulus is not a Druid?" he asked loudly, causing Dreia eyes to snap open quickly.

She regarded him angrily for just a moment before she slumped her straight postured, cross-legged self down against her already made bed.

"In the future, never, _ever_, do that again."

"Do what?" Harry asked, grabbing his glasses and placing them on his face, trying to determine what had made her so upset.

"If someone is meditating, jerking them back to reality like that can be detrimental to their health," she said warily before falling back fully on the bed with an audible thump, groaning and rubbing her eyes in the process.

"Sorry, I didn't know," Harry mumbled, relaxing himself back on to his own bed, feeling a bit put out.

"Of course you didn't, and don't be sorry," she said. "I'll be ok… just… give me a minute."

Harry watched silently as her chest rose and fell deeply, apparently collecting herself. He felt a bit ashamed for having jumped at her like that, but if Regulus wasn't a Druid…

He also wanted to know what that memory had been about anyway. Why show him that?

"Regulus is not a Druid," she said, starting at the ceiling, making some odd movement with her eyeballs. "That's all you picked up from that memory?"

"No, is he always that introspective?"

Dreia merely chuckled, "Sort of, though that day he was exceptionally bad. I didn't know it at the time, but that was the day he learned that his mother had died from an article in the prophet. It's what he said that had such an effect on me."

Dreia pulled her self into a sitting position on the bed with her legs crossed in front of her, palms flat against her knees. "I thought you might as well," she said smirking knowingly.

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows into a distinct 'v'. "Why?"

"You were the one looking for something to prove he was human last night, were you not?"

Harry cursed her silently. Even though it was true, it didn't stop the regret he felt when someone pegged him true. Did he truly where his emotions on his sleeve as Snape had suggested?

Deciding it was best the change the subject to something on a bit more even ground he asked, "Meditating then? Do you do it often?"

"Every morning," she smiled blissfully. "Helps to keep everything in line and organize. It also helps me to keep some semblance of control. It helps me to relax, to think. Nothing better to grasp peace of mind."

Harry thought this sounded reasonable, and truthfully something he'd almost covet to have. "Sounds wonderful."

"It is, and something I'm to teach you so, get your skinny rear-end over here. No, time like the present to start getting started. Have you ever meditated before?" she asked.

"No, I do daydream a lot though," he admitted.

Dreia frowned a bit, and asked, "Do you daydream about current events or just let you mind wander?"

"Current events," he answered, sitting carefully on her bed next to her. "Usually what's going on in my life is at the forefront of my mind."

"And, you think about it a lot do you?" she asked, a sculpted eyebrow quirked in question.

"Yea, I guess so…" he said shrugging his shoulders.

"No wonder you've trouble with Occlumency then. Hmm," she said tapping her fingers against her thigh. "The exercises that you used to clam yourself the other night will help with clearing your mind as well before I take you on the journey."

"Journey?" Harry asked curiously, the trip across the Atlantic weighing on his mind.

"It's a form of meditation," she answered. "It's like a… mental trip holiday. You'll place yourself into a relaxed state, somewhere between resting and sleeping, and then I will talk you through scenarios you will see in you minds eye. Its a good way to learn how to meditate and clear your mind," she advised.

Harry wasn't sure he liked the minds-eye part as it sounded too much like Trelawney for his taste but asked, "How do I get myself into a relaxed state?"

"That's the easy part. Here," she said gesturing to her position. "Sit like I am and try to relax your body."

Harry got in to the same position she was in, attempting to relax his arms and legs as best he could.

"Ok," she started in a more soothing, melodic tone. "Now close your eyes and breathe deeply in through your nose, and out through your mouth just like you did the night before last. Breath in as deeply as you can feeling it fill every corner of your lungs and then breath out that breath slowly through your mouth."

"Isn't that a bit repetitious?" Harry asked sarcastically with his eyes still closed.

Dreia didn't say anything for a moment, in which Harry figured she was either shaking her head or rolling her eyes. "All right, funny man. This is serious. The repetition focuses you on one thing helping to put you in a relaxed state. Shall we try again?"

"Yes lets," he said with a snickering grin, still feeling silly for doing this.

"Good," she said a bit keenly. "In through you nose, out through your mouth. In through you nose, out through you mouth," she said again her voice becoming soft a quiet. "Concentrate on the movement of the air. Feel the air being pulled from the air around you, in through your nose, past your sinuses, down through your throat, down through your windpipe, and into your lungs. Feel the life giving air fill every corner, every facet of you lungs. Feel the air filling it up. Good. Now exhale slowly through your mouth. Feel the air, leaving you lungs, up through your windpipe, up through your throat, and feel it exit your mouth."

"Good, continue this breathing exercise for a few minutes while you relax."

For the first few minutes he completed the exercise as asked, solely concentrating on nothing more than the air filling his lungs in through him nose and out through his mouth. But after awhile, as usual, his mind started to deviate from the path Dreia had set forth for him.

Harry started imagining not only the air being pulled into his lungs, but molecules of pollen and dust as well. He'd imagine them traveling up into his nose and down into his lungs. He pictured the molecules of pollen floating around the suspended air against the pink background of his internal organ until he'd expel them while breathing out.

"Harry," she began in an oddly ethereal voice, sounding as though she were at the end of a very long tunnel, "Look before you now. You will see a large oak door. Reflect on the designs inlaid in the door. See the handle of the door, the shape of it, and the texture. Reach out for handle of the door and open it."

In his 'minds-eye', Harry could see a door. Odd runes and symbols were carved into the surface of the dark wooded entryway that appeared to be illuminated from beyond it. The handle itself transformed between a solid golden lion and a clear emerald serpent. He thought it curious in a way that he was not at all interested in the door. It felt like he'd seen it before, just out of sight, and was more curious as to what was on the other side. He reached out slowly for the handle, feeling it cool underneath his fingers. But before he could turn the handle fully, the door began opening of it own accord. A strong gust of wind and piercing light assaulted his senses as he looked beyond the entryway.

"Before you is a path Harry," Dreia's soft cool voice echoed around him. "Begin your journey down the path. Take in all that is around you, the sky, the landscape, and the scent in the air. What time of year is it? What time of day? Observe all that is around you while you continue down the path…"

As her echoing voice trailed off on the wind, Harry started down the small gravelly path. It was midwinter from the look of things. With the exception of the flourishing pine and cedar, the trees and earth were bare and although the sandy colored gravel path was clear, the ground was covered in several feet of white, pristine snow. The sky was a hazy shade of uniform gray that reflected the drabness of the seasonal depression. A strong wind blew across the barren land as Harry continued easily on the path and up a small hill.

Although it seemed to be the dead of winter he was not cold; even though as he breathed out there were little puffs of steam emanating from his lips. He was still in the clothing he dawned last night, a simple pair of too short pajama bottoms and a large oversized top.

He continued on for some time walking up and down little hills and valleys that the path lead him through feeling ill-at-ease with the austere piece of land. Ether side of which never deviated from the other. It was like the scenery on either side of the path was a perfect carbon copy of it self. Shrubs, trees, and even seemingly lone ravens we duplicated on either side of it.

Rounding the next knoll he stopped shortly, inspecting through wide eyes and shortened breath at the scene in the next glen. He didn't know why the setting unnerved him so, but his racing pulse was a sure sign that it did.

At the end of the slope there was a fork in the road. Each path lead off in to a different direction, but like the first part of his venture each looked exactly the same as the other. At the middle of the crossroads, an old woman stood beckoning him to her.

Guardedly, Harry moved forward down the path toward the old women. Upon closer inspection the aged women before him was truly a hideous creature. She was short and squat, with a large lump on her back. An old, tattered cloak of grey that seemed to shimmer deep purple as she moved was wrapped round her shoulders. Her short face was roadway of age and her dark beady eyes seemed to boar into his soul as she looked upon him. A sharp hook like nose marred the rest of her visage, her smile was crooked and what remained of teeth were crooked and yellowing as well.

As Harry got closer to the crossroads he glanced at a plain wooden street sign above the old women, that read simply, 'One Way,' pointing to the left hand path, and heralding the other direction it read 'Or the Other.'

"We meet at last young Harry," the old women said with dark, crackly voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Which way do you choose?"

"I'm not sure… er… Madam. Which way should I take?" he asked stopping shortly before her.

The old women threw her head back letting out a stream of gruesome, cackling laughter that was interspersed with long, life sustaining wheezes for breath the sent shivers up and down Harry's spine.

"You don't know who I am, do you boy?" she asked with a wicked smile on her face.

"Sorry, I don't." he said, feeling like it should be obvious he didn't. "Should I?"

The women emitted the same cruel laughter as before and said, "I am the old crone of the cross roads, I am _death_ and rebirth boy. Which way do you choose?"

Harry, neither encouraged nor enlightened by this information asked again, "Which way _should_ I choose? They both look the same."

The old crone studied him for a moment through narrowed eyes saying cryptically, "I cannot make the decision for you, but I can tell you that either path leads to the same."

Harry was starting to feel frustrated and annoyed by the situation. He knew somehow he had to take one path or the other, but which? Somewhere in the very root of his gut he felt that this was a very important decision, but not exactly sure why. And given the fact that they both looked exactly the same, he felt he was helpless to make a good decision without more information. There just _had_ to be more to it than that.

"Could you give me more of a hint than that? So I'm better informed that is?" Harry asked hopefully.

The old women smiled in a wide toothless grin. "Aye, laddie," she said nodding her head, and possibly a shadow of a wink.

She raised her ancient arms sending out purple and gold sparks from her fingertips that landed at the tops of the closest summits on either side of the paths.

The ground began to shake as giant mounds of obsidian rose from the middle of the earthen roads. As they grew, Harry stared open mouthed, his heart sinking at the wicked stone faces of his enemy.

Harry knew exactly what the statues symbolized. _'Each path leads to Voldemort," _he thought with a heavy heart_. "And I have to pass him to go further. I never had a chance!'_

"You're a quick one boy," the old hag said pulling him out of his clouded thoughts. "You can keep no secrets from me," noting the look of astonishment on his face. "I know that which you think, that which you _breath_. You're horrified at the fact that you destiny was chosen for you before you gave you first breath of life."

"But I know more than even you," she said continued solemnly, shaking a knowing finger at him. "And believe me boy, you did and do choose the path that has lead to my crossroads. You are the savior, the hero. Now it is up to you to choose the path that leads to your destiny and beyond. _Which way do you choose_?"

Before Harry could process this, before he could make to defend his actions and tell her to sod off, he heard the small muffled sound of a child crying behind him.

He turned toward the sad noise, as the old hag said, "Ah. You're past comes to help you choose. Go to him now." she said inclining her head back to the path from which he came, "Let him help you."

Although furious with the old women for what she'd accused him of, he was more intrigued about the source of the crying. _'My past?'_

Harry stalked back up the path, causing little puff of dirt to escape the ground around his feet before stopping before a leafless bush that was the wellspring of the noise that broke the quiet winter side.

"Hello?" he called bending around the branches for a clearer view, "Can you come out?"

They crying ceased for a moment, as a small sniffling figure rose up timidly from beyond the bush. A small boy stood with his arms crossed against his chest, bent slightly at the waist with his head inclined as he sniffled saying a polite but soggy greeting. Harry stood stock still as he flushed with the realization that he was looking his younger, much skinnier, raven-haired self.

Harry could scarcely believe his eyes. His past had, as the old women had said, literally come to him. But how could his five-year-old self help him choose which path to take?

After the initial shock of seeing himself like this, a faint pressure began to build in Harry's chest filled with painful reminders of the past. He remembered a lot of his childhood had been spent in this manner; cold, alone, and upset for what ever reason the Dursleys had inflicted on him.

"How… how are you Harry?" he asked quietly, tentatively. Younger Harry shrugged and kicked some stones near the bush, shoving his hands in his pockets and murmured "I'm fine," evasively.

Hearing yourself say something that you've said your whole life as a defense mechanism is definitely different _saying_ it, Harry thought. But if he were going to get anywhere with the paths, he was going to have to get a bit more than 'I'm fine' out of himself.

Harry knelt down to eye-level with the littler Harry and asked kindly, "Did Dudley do something?"

The little boy was quiet at first, appearing not to want to answer the question. "No. No… it… was Aunt Petunia. I ah… um…. asked about Mum and Dad again…" he said sniffling, lowering his head further, in a voice that was oddly high. Harry found it difficult to believe he's ever sounded like that. "She didn't say. She got mad and…"

"…put you in the cupboard under the stairs...," older Harry finished regretfully, remembering the incident in question.

"Yea. I've been there for two days already. Its… Its…"

The younger Harry didn't get a chance to finish as older Harry pulled him into an uncharacteristic hug. This is not something the elder would normally afford himself, but he knew better than any that this was what the smaller Harry wanted more than anything in the world; some kind words and a little human touch.

They stayed that way for some time; little Harry eventually resting his head against elder Harry's shoulder crying in both anguish and relief. Elder Harry himself knotting up a bit as he became wrapped-up and reflective on his awful childhood. What he wouldn't have given for this at least once when he was a child, to be held by someone who cared.

Younger Harry's' tears had silenced somewhat as he finally pulled away slowly and murmured a small thank-you that was reflected in his red-rimmed bright green eyes.

"Listen," the elder started out, looking to the boy and smiling strongly. "Soon enough you'll be out of the Dursleys most of the year, so you won't have to deal with them. You'll have friends, and adventures, and… and people who love you," he finished, something strong catching in his throat.

"Really?" the younger version asked skeptically.

"I promise. Cross my heart and all that," the elder said.

The younger nodded his head once and looked down at his oversized trainers and gave another small thank-you and in a blink was gone.

Harry stared for a moment at the spot his younger self had just occupied before he stood once more, rubbing a troubled hand over his face. _'That was hard. I wonder what it had to do with choosing a path though?_' he thought as he walked back toward the crone who, much to Harry's surprise was beaming at him.

"You chose wisely," she said proudly.

"I didn't realize that I had," he said confused and more than a smidge alarmed. "When did I choose?"

"When you hugged that boy, laddie. You chose the path of love and hope over loneliness and hate. A _wise_ choice," she said.

She waved both arms in a great arc and emitting the same purple and gold sparks she had before. As they landed on the paths, the left-hand path turned gold in color, while the right one turned black.

Harry thanked the women quietly inclining his head and turned toward the golden path hoping to get on with the rest of his journey, only to come face to face with Dreia.

She emitted a soft laugh as she said, "You wondered off a bit," answering his unasked question. "I'm just here to fetch you."

"You didn't prepare him for this, Dreia," croaked the old women behind him sourly. "He chose well though, as I am sure you can see."

"Hello, old women," said Dreia evenly as she turned to the crone, all traces of her bright personality gone. "How are you?"

Harry turned to see the women narrowing her eyes at Dreia, "You've not much respect for you elders, girl. Watch your _tongue_."

"I believe it was you who taught me to approach you as an equal," she returned. "I am treating you as an equal who took off unasked with my pupil."

"Aye, but it was his time," the crone said gesturing grandly to the paths with a trace of smile on her old face. "Look!"

Dreia looked down the dark path and then to the gold, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Dumbledore…" she breathed.

"Yes, yes… too wise for his own good, and to secretive as well. I have some words for the old goat," she said motherly. But then the edges of her crooked mouth slipped up in a wicked sneer as Dreia turned round to face her. "You see he's your savior girl."

"Mmm," Dreia murmured narrowing her eyes as well. "Thank you, you old hag, but we must be off. It doesn't do well to loiter around other worlds to long. I bid you good day, Madam," she finished curtly inclining her head slightly toward the crone.

The crone laughed and said sweetly, "Good-bye dear child. Good luck, young Harry," and she was gone with a snap of her fingers and small puff of smoke.

Dreia sighed heavily, turning back to Harry. "Well at least we know now how you manage to end up in Voldemorts head," she said disgustedly.

"_What?"_ Harry almost gasped. "What do you mean?"

"I'll explain when we get back," she said, offering no further explanation. "Put one foot on the gold path and then tug at the string at your navel."

Harry instinctively looked down at his stomach noticing a long, thin, shiny blue cord that traveled off in to the unseen distance that he'd not noticed before. But rather then stand there and marvel at the beauty of it, he took a step forward on the golden path, wanting nothing more than the answers to the question about this whole exercise.

Something, profound, took shape in Harry's heart as he did so. Something shifted, stirred almost as a small burst of _something_ welled up inside him. The anger that had been with him since hearing the contents of the prophecy seemed to melt a little as he took another step forward to stand fully on the path tugging on the sapphire string.

He left the path beneath him and he floated up into the winter sky. As he got closer to the clouds they darkened and morphed into a whirling vortex of black with revolving slits of bright white light. Spiraling winds twisted and twirled Harry as he was pulled to the very center of it; like a bubble from a bath being sucked up by a tub drain.

Reaching the bottom of the vortex, Harry could see the sharp shining light seemed to converge, growing larger and larger as he spun toward it. The light eclipsed his feet, then legs, then torso, and finally he his head.

Harry was once again in the room he shared with Dreia, hovering high above it. He looked down from the ceiling to see the long blue cord tied from his navel, to his other navel.

Suddenly, something bright shot past him and into Dreia's still form on the bed. She stirred slowly, blinking her eyes open looking about the room. She looked first to Harry and then toward the ceiling where the other Harry was and said, "Pull again on the string, it'll being you back inside your body."

Harry knew she couldn't see him properly and could probably get away with murder in this position, but decided he'd rather know more about how he _got_ into this position in the first place. So, tug he did, and with a feeling not unlike putting on a large wooly sock, slid back into his body.

Harry felt very stiff and somewhat nauseous as he opened his eyes looking to Dreia for answers.

"So, what was all that about then?" he asked, stretching and trying to get all his muscle groups back in working order.

"Actually, I could ask you the same, although I don't think you'd know what to answer with," she said conversationally. "But, I'd like to know what you saw first."

"Oh no… no…" he said shaking his head. "That was to… _bizarre_ for me just to wait patiently. I'd like to know why I was there," he said now counting off his fingers, "how I got there, what you two were talking about, why I had to choose, why you said Dumbledore after you noticed the statues, and who the old women is. _What was all that about?_" he asked impatiently.

"Well, if you insist it be that way," she said with her eyebrows raised, crossing her arms. "The old crone thought you should be there, she pulled you to another plane of existence through astral projection, you're at a crossroads in your life and you saw that visually, you're the hero, Bridget," she said bluntly.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her answers, not because he was angry with her for telling him though. It was that he didn't understand a bloody word of it.

"Care to elaborate?" he asked.

"No, not until I get your side of the story," she said shortly, but softened, slumping her shoulders forward some. "I promise it will make more sense after you tell me. I'm at loss on some things myself." She shrugged her shoulders and sighed, "I'm hoping some of what you can tell me will help decipher some of it. So?"

"And you'll tell me what all this means after words?" Harry asked skeptically.

Dreia smiled reassuringly. "Of course. Harry, _look_, I promise you right here and now that if I can tell you, and you ask, I will." She made a movement over her chest like an x and then held up her index and middle finger and said "Scouts honor" stiffly.

Harry looked at her like she'd lost her mind, but launched into all that had happened anyway, from describing the door (which she was fascinated with), to his interactions with young Harry and the Crone.

After he'd finished, she seemed to be lost in thought for a while. Harry just looked on expectantly while the questions in his mind kept multiplying in on themselves, which he quickly tired of. It was time for answers.

"So, what happened?" he prompted.

Dreia tapping her slender finger against her chin, "Let me take you step by step through the journey, and hopefully that will help explain some of it, " she said.

"Ok, lets hear it then," Harry approved.

"The door in the first part of your journey represents the door to you subconscious. It's actually very interesting that you would have so many runes and symbols on it. It might mean that instead of the door to your subconscious, you went through the door to you super-conscious."

"Super… conscious?" asked Harry.

"Mmmm," she murmured. "Your higher self, your spiritual self, the self that connects with the worlds beyond. Which is how you were able to astral project."

"Astral project," he echoed in question.

"Astral projection is where your spirit self leaves your body and travels," she explained knowledgably. "Sometimes to places here on earth, or in this case, places not _of_ this earth. You were literally in another universe Harry. A different plane of existence."

"And how exactly did I get there?" he asked quizzically not exactly trusting himself to ask anything else, having trouble believing what she was communicating to him. _'Another plane of existence?'_

"I thought about that while we were at the crossroads. No one's been able to explain the connection you have with Voldemort, yet, have they?" she asked. Harry shook his head no. "I thought not. I think astral projection might be tied into it somehow. I'll have to think on that a bit more and maybe confer with others. But you got to the crossroads through astral projection" she said.

"So, back to the journey," she continued, leaving more of Harry's unasked questions floating in the air between them, "During an actual journey, the landscape would represent your current mood. Being dark and dreary you probably feel depressed and lonely," she said. "But again, I'm pretty sure you left shortly after you walked through the door, so it could be that the landscape was merely showing you the past; Your past being dark, dreary and barren. The path being clear, but sandy though is another interesting thing I shall have to think on."

"And now the crossroads. This is where you get really disoriented not knowing anything about Druid or Celtic theology," she said rubbing her hand together. "The crossroads in Druid theology, and indeed most theologies represent and turning point in one's life. A choice to be made in order to continue on to whatever life holds in store for you. Your crossroads was interesting in that, at first look they both look similar, but after sometime with your…er…inner child, your past and some questions, you chose a path that would be good for you and make you stronger in your," she rolled her eyes sighing heavily, and muttering under her breath, "fight against Voldemort."

Harry realized now why she'd said Dumbledore's name at the crossroads, and why the crone had said he would be her savior.

"So you don't know the full contents of the prophecy," said Harry slowly. "What exactly did he tell you then?"

Dreia propped up against the headboard and pulled her knees against her chest. "He told me the first few lines I guess, but he made it sound like that was all there was; that you had the power. He didn't say you were the _only_ one who had the power though. I honestly don't think anyone of us in the Order know that."

Harry was becoming agitated now. He thought for sure that the members of the Order knew. He had some small hope that he wouldn't be the only one who knew so he'd be able to talk with someone other than Dumbledore about it eventually. Lupin, or Tonks, or maybe even Kingsley. Now, he wasn't sure if he'd be 'allowed.' And more over, Sirius hadn't known. He hadn't known what it was that he died for. Shouldn't he have at least known that which he _died_ for?

"Well, at least it's not just me, Dumbledore and whoever overheard it at the Hogshead," Harry spitted aloud.

"Harry, if you need to talk about it, you have me here. I'm offering. I know it's not much of consolation, but it's something," she said soothingly. "Besides, although it would be costly to do such, now that you've got the knowledge, you can tell anyone you wish."

"Why would I want to share that burden?" he asked incredulously.

"Because there are those who would want nothing more than help ease your load, Harry. There are an awful lot of people who love you, you know."

Harry did know. Although there were times when self-doubt would weigh in heavily and he would wonder _why._ But what he didn't know was if or when he would share the knowledge. But he didn't want to think about anymore so he quickly switched back to the original subject.

"So… I made the right choice then, you think?"

Dreia smiled and shook her head yes.

"And who was the old women? She said she was death and rebirth?" he asked.

Dreia laughed deeply, "She would say that, yeah. _Cryptic old women_," she said with a smirk. "That was Bridget. Or Hecate, or I'm sure she's got thousand different names. She's the old crone of the crossroads. She's there to help guide you on the right path. I'll get you some books from our library on her, she's quite and interesting character. They'll explain what you need to know."

Harry really wanted to ask a hundred other questions, but it was obviously not a good subject for Dreia. He figured if he had any other questions after reading the material then he would ask her.

"Well, I'm famished. Fancy something to eat?" she asked working her way toward the door.

"Yeah, coming," he said, dejectedly trying to take the event of the morning in. He ran a shaky hand through his messy hair, slipping on his slippers and grabbing his dressing gown.

"Geez Harry," Dreia said standing at the door waiting for him. "You realize that since you've been here you've traveled cross-continent, met a dead man, confronted both your past and present and met a goddess?" Dreia shook her head and laughed. "And this in only your second day!"

Harry let out a harsh puff of breath and shoved his hands in his pockets as he moved toward the door. "Story of my life," he muttered under his breath, "Story of my _life_."

* * *

A/N: Just a quick note to those that reviewed the last chapter. Thank you so much! It's late at the moment and I wanted to get this chapter up now that it is finally finished! I will add my review answers to this tomorrow. Thanks!

And as usual, I own nothing; JK's the Goddess with the copyrights. Please Review!


	9. Into the wood

Into the wood.

"Hoot."

"'n a min, Hed," he said groggily moving around to make himself more comfortable and bumping lightly into feathers.

"Hoot."

"I sa, 'n a minute, girl. 'm sleepy."

"_Hoot!"_

"Wha? Oh, _oww_! What was _that_ for?" Harry cried, becoming full awake now that Hedwig had made her urgency known in the form of a painful ear nipping.

He swiftly sat up, grabbing both his ear and his glasses in the process, with a scowl on his face. He shoved his round, wire-framed glasses up his nose, glaring at the end of the bed where his perturbed snowy owl sat looking at him as if to say, _'You know better than to oversleep!'_

Which Harry knew was entirely true, though at the moment with his vision waving in front of him even with his glasses on, he had a hard time admitting it. The last three days had been busy, often with late nights, which while productive and interesting had Harry, for once in more times than he could remember, longing for his bed each night.

Hedwig gave him a shill little hoot and turned her back on Harry, ruffling her tail feathers in the process. This had always made Harry soften. He truly did not like upsetting his feathered companion and he was more than sure she knew it.

The pain in his ear subsiding, he rubbed his eyes under his glasses and cooed, "I'm sorry girl, thanks for waking me."

In return, she stuck her beak up in the air, and shifted her feathers as if to shake off his apologies.

Harry sighed, picked himself off his bed, and headed for his trunk, only half noticing that Dreia was not in her normal meditative position on the opposite bed. He opened his trunk and dug out some owl treats, hoping to appease the irritated owl.

"Would you like one of these, girl?" he asked, returning to her. She eyed the bag for a moment, stuck her beak in the air, and turned her back on him once more.

"Come on girl, I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to stroke her back. She ruffled her feathers but did not otherwise move from her position. Harry grinned lopsidedly, palmed one of the treats leaning over the end of the bed placing it in front of her.

She eyed the treat and Harry suspiciously for a moment, but in the end gave in and quickly nipped the beloved treat out of his hand, eating it quickly.

Harry sighed; his task accomplished, and sat down on the bed next to her, noticing the scroll attached to her leg.

"Did you have something for me then?" The snowy owl automatically stuck out her leg, allowing him to untie her burden, nipping him a little too affectionately on the fingers to let him know that her irritation with him was gone but not forgotten.

Harry glared at her for a second, sucking on the offended finger, and unraveled the note:

_Harry._

_I have some matters to attend to this morning, so I won't be with you for your exercises, but I have little doubt you know what to do. I'll be back around breakfast._

_Dreia_

_P.S. Your owl is one of the smartest I've ever met. Where ever did you find her?_

Harry smiled briefly at the compliment, folded up the note, and tossed it on the bedside table.

'_Little doubt,'_ Harry thought to himself as he rolled his eyes, shifting himself into the required position. As though she could mean anything else?

He remembered on the first night Dreia had said that one of the very first steps in order to work with the elements was to connect with your spiritual-self. And in order to do that, one of the first steps was to learn how to properly clear your mind by meditating and focusing.". Harry thought that was all well and good because he was in desperate need to learn this skill anyway in order to acquire the skill of Occlumency.

Even though Dumbledore had said that in the end, it did not matter that he didn't have the skill, with the dream he still couldn't quite remember lingering around the edges of his mind and Dreia making it clear that the lessons were still not quite over as far as the Professor was concerned, Harry wanted to learn all he could about clearing his mind before he let Snape's greasy hooks back into his head. He just knew the git was going to teach him again regardless of what Dumbledore had said about teaching Harry himself. He was so certain that it made his head ache and his fists clench just thinking about it.

So, she had taught him to meditate, and with the frequency in which he was practicing these new skills, Harry figured he would have to finally get it whether he liked it or not.

In the mornings as dawn approached, the sun showing its first glorious rays of the new day, Dreia woke Harry and they concentrated on clearing his head. She taught him breathing techniques and sitting positions that would allow him to alleviate his mind of all thought, and put him in, as she had said, a "better place to defend your mind."

But despite the fact that these exercises were intended to be a relaxing experience, they often left Harry feeling frustrated. He could maintain a thought-free mind for no more than half a minute before random reflections would pop into his head from seemingly nowhere and his unusually curious nature would have him sorting out full-blown scenarios before he could stop himself.

"I don't understand!" he'd said, throwing his arms up in frustration that third morning. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied plainly. "The human mind is not meant to be idle. Even in sleep, our subconscious engages us in little one-person plays meant to educate and inform us. You are struggling against the natural course in order to keep your mind free of thought. There is a reason it is called a 'discipline,' Harry. You have to teach your mind to do something that it naturally does not do. You'll get it, you'll see."

After two hours of this every morning, producing only nominal improvement day after day, Harry was still skeptical, though much less so than he was before they began. He often wished that clearing his mind was one of those things that came easy for him, like Quidditch, or defense. But it wasn't, so with the worry that he would have to repeat the same excruciating mind violations that Snape had put him through last year, he resolved to practice and get it right.

Midmornings and afternoons were far more enjoyable as far as Harry was concerned. In the company of Dreia, Winston, and the younger two boys he learned about the element of earth; the beings, colors, and a bit about the spells associated with the element.

Though the spells themselves were simple, they were a challenge in that in order to use the connection to amplify the effect of the spell, you had to keep absolute control and, your emotions in check, lest you end up with a beanstalk worthy of Jack as Harry found out to his utter horror the first day they tried the growing spell.

"That thing must be 30 feet high!" Jeremiah cried, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Harry, you're –I-," Dreia mumbled, clearly stunned before dropping her head into her hands.

"Can we climb it, Winston?" Eden asked excitedly, bouncing from one foot to the other.

"Yes! Oh please, can't we?" Jeremiah begged.

"No, but I think now would be a good time for that flying lesson... Harry, I do believe you have that spell down. Now we just have to worry about how much power you give it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean... I was just…" Harry said, choking on his words, looking up at the tall stalk, and not knowing what to say.

"Frustrated that you couldn't complete a simple spell?" Winston asked.

"Yeah," Harry said dropping his eyes to the ground. "Bloody irritating…" he muttered under his breath.

"Right, flying and then your first lesson in grounding," Dreia said decidedly, glancing warily up at the giant beanstalk once more.

Dreia told him later that it wasn't how you did the spell, but how much power you put behind it. "Emotions, plus use of the help of elements, can greatly improve the power behind the spell you are trying to cast. That is why this type of magic is guarded closely. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what kind of a disaster it would be if everyone could do it; especially for a wizard like you, with your power and feeling. You will learn how to control how much help you ask of the elements, tempered with your own power and emotions."

Though he understood it, the concept was so different from what he'd been taught at Hogwarts that wrapping his mind around it was difficult. It was like understanding that the sky was blue, but not being able to perceive the tiny little molecules that reflected the light to make it blue.

She then had taught him to ground. Something she told him would help in all aspects of his life. "Grounding will help you focus, will help you rid yourself of excess energy and frustration that can impede your spell work and concentration on the task at hand. And, it will probably help you with your other meditations as well.

"It's a simple a visualization. One that can be done quickly and silently once you've mastered it."

"How do we start?" Harry asked.

"Take off your shoes and socks and stand with your arms straight out and your feet shoulder width and a half apart touching the ground, like this-" she instructed, taking to the position herself.

"Close your eyes and practice your breathing techniques for a moment."

"Now, seek out the excess energy in your body."

Harry was not quite sure how to take this or what she meant. "Er..."

"Do you ever feel like you are overwhelmed? Like you have all this excess feeling running around inside you that you don't know how to get rid of?"

"All the time – it feels like it's going to eat through my skin," Harry admitted.

"That's what we are looking for. Extra energy often makes us cranky because we don't know how to rid ourselves of it or it is too negative. Seek that out in yourself and focus it down; from the tip of your head and down through your body."

Harry was surprised at first; having been frustrated and angry for over a year, it was easy to seek it out within himself. To his mind's eye, it looked like a swirling grey fog that encompassed him and strangled all his vital organs. It was thick and palpable, moving slowly and lethargically throughout him. He shuddered at the sight of his own visualization, but it couldn't be helped. Instead of concentrating on the alarming look of his own emotions, Harry concentrated on shifting the mist away from his brain, his lungs, and his liver—pushing it down—in through his arms and down through his chest, down into his legs and feet.

"Now see your feet open up and roots of a tree grow from your feet into the soil," Dreia said smoothly. "Empty that energy into the ground – push it all the way in and bury it."

Harry felt the energy leave his body and felt surprisingly light, if not a bit disoriented. It was freeing – like being on a broom. He swayed to and fro but did not falter. It truly was like being anchored to the ground.

"Pull up your roots," Dreia said. "Feel them slink back into your body. Good – now, pull what remains into the point right above your stomach and breathe."

Harry decided that he very much liked the feeling he was left with; calm, collected, and more readily able to focus on whatever he was doing. He could more easily apply himself to the spells that they taught him and, while they were still very off in one direction or the other, it was nowhere near the calamity of that first afternoon. And as she had pointed out, it had helped him with the clearing of his mind, but only a little.

In addition to the spell lessons, there were trips around the meadow and walks through the outer part of the wood. He was pointed to naturally occurring things and explanations of the grandeur of nature. Fantastic tales of old were recited for him as they related to this tree or that shrub, slowly learning why it was so important for the Druids to be in touch with nature.

The area was an interesting combination of magical and non-magical plants and herbs. Seeing potion ingredients in their natural environment intrigued Harry; somehow it brought it home for him and gave him a better understanding of the plants that he'd failed to comprehend in his potion books and the greenhouses over the years. Not that the comprehension was total, but he surprised himself by knowing more about them than he thought he did.

He was introduced briefly to the beautiful ring of tall grey standing stones upon the knoll in front of the wood. Though he was not permitted to enter until the night of his initiation, standing just outside of it he could feel the magic that radiated throughout the circle. It was a different sort of feeling than what he felt when walking the halls of Hogwarts, where magic seemed to seep from the walls. Still it was there, more concentrated and vibrant. It had an old sort of feel, a serenity that he had come to associate with the company of the Druids.

He also spent some time in the evening hours before dusk in the middle of the meadow in a bare patch of red earth with Gio and a pail of water. He showed Harry how to mix the water and dig the right amount of clay in order to form a large ball in which he would then create a basin. Harry had asked why the first time they started but Gio simply looked him, smiled mischievously, and said, "You're a Potter, are you not?"

As it turned out, Harry was to fashion this basin of his own device that Gio said was commonly used in Druidic rituals and that was a representative for the element of earth. Though most you encountered were stone or metal, the earthen ones gave the Druid a chance to enjoy the simplicity of working with the elements physically and to know the results first hand.

"And nothing works better for a Wizard than a magical tool of his own devices," Gio said. "Your own magic is interred into the object you are working with, and magic recognizes it's own."

After three days, the basin was finally looking like it might be something more than a hollowed out mud-pie and Gio assured him that by the time they were through, it would be one of his stronger magical items.

When the sessions with Gio were through, he was required to spend some time in the middle of the meadow. Harry was not quite sure why this was so, only that Dreia has often called it evening meditation, and that he should spend time practicing his breathing exercises, grounding before hand if he should need too, and to simply lay there and think about nothing in particular.

Of course, with the exception of being idle, this, Harry thought, was something he could handle with little difficultly. Letting his mind wander through anything and everything was something he seemed to be particularly adept at.

Dinner was served shortly after his time in the field among the grasses, and his own musings. Amongst the Druids and their chatter on things of the day, theories and stories he barely understood and the general friendship the permeated the air in the kitchen, Harry felt at ease. It was only upon seeing Regulus that he was reminded of the harsh reality of why he was in their company. It made him feel guilty, but he brushed it aside for another day and resolved to work harder during his time among them.

Hedwig gave a final derisive hoot before she settled herself down for her morning nap. He smiled at her recalling that last few days once more before breathing deeply and practiced clearing his head.

* * *

"We're going in a bit further today," Winston said that hot afternoon as they made their way into the wood. "We have someone we would like you to meet." 

Harry was a little startled by this, having only met creatures and beings in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts that truthfully he'd wished he had not.

"Who?"

"You will see. Meeting her is somewhat of an experience," Winston said, as Dreia walked farther ahead of them.

Harry's widened for a moment, but it was enough for Winston to take notice.

"Problems with creatures in the wood?" Winston asked.

Harry raised a hand and began counting off the wild and bizarre creatures he'd met. "Acromantulas, centaurs, unicorns, giants-"

"Giants!" Winston exclaimed.

"Yeah, oh and once, a werewolf," Harry said, knowing full well who the werewolf was but was enjoying the way Winston's eyebrows rose with each new creature too much to make mention of it.

Winston stared blankly at him for a moment but then shook his head. "Luckily, you will find none of those things in this wood, but I would certainly like to take a walk through the ones you've been in."

They followed a well-trodden, earthen path covered in dead and decaying foliage. The wood, though silent to eyes, was a myriad of activity to the ears. Birds of every sort filled the air with their song. Small creatures skirted along the path in the underbrush rustling the leaves and insects hummed a high-pitched tune at every direction. Harry, for the better part, was oblivious to all this. With his eyes sharp and intent on searching around corners and scanning the canopy for signs of whatever creature he was likely to encounter, he dismissed these little things as soon as he discovered that they were no more threatening than they would be in an average wood, despite Winston's insistence that that was the case.

Soon, much sooner than he'd expected given his previous experience, Dreia and Winston stood before an old and beautiful Silver Birch. Three main branches spread from its thick trunk and its mossy green leaves danced and swayed to some unknown tune the light breeze created as it filtered though its top.

Dreia turned and looked at Harry expectantly. "What do you know of tree guardians?"

Tree guardians. Now here was something he thought he could handle. "You mean those little stick creatures?" he replied.

Dreia and Winston shared a quick, startled look.

"What do you mean, stick creatures?" Dreia asked.

"Stick creatures, you know… they eat woodlice and live in wand trees. I was bitten by one of the little buggers last year while we studying them at Hogwarts. They've got sharp little fingers and sharp, nasty little teeth?" Harry said, describing the creatures with his hands for emphasis. "You know, _bowtruckles_…"

Dreia looked at him incredulously. She narrowed her eyes, folded her arms across her chest, and tapped her foot on the forest floor. Winston stood still, his mouth slightly open as he looked between Dreia and Harry, before he finally said in a low strangled whisper, "You mean to tell me, that they are teaching you that _bowtruckles_ are _tree guardians_?"

"Er… well yeah. Aren't they?"

"No, Harry, they are not. They are cousin to the nargles. They simply live in wand trees and claim the trees as they own and will not let anyone near them," Dreia said almost growling.

It was now Harry's turn stand still and drop his mouth open slightly, the awkward conversation with Luna last Christmas under the mistletoe in the Room of Requirement unfolding itself before his eyes even as they widened before the two Druids. "Nargles aren't real. They're a _myth_!"

"Of course they are. Almost exactly as you just described, but smaller… they also live in mistletoe and are an incredible pain to get out!" Dreia nearly spit. She unfolded her arms and placed one against the tree, lowering her head, breathing deeply, which Harry saw as distinct sign to control her anger, something he certainly couldn't comprehend. Why get upset about some misrepresentation? And if this was true, what had the mystical and loopy Ravenclaw known?

Winston threw up his hands in a defeated manner, waving off the entire conversation, walking away and mumbling about the state of the Wizarding world and nargles.

Harry shrugged defensively, bewildered by their behavior. "It's just what I've been taught."

"Yes, well, I suppose its time to properly educate you then. This is a true tree guardian- a Dryad." She turned to the old Silver Birch, and closed her eyes and placed her palms flush with its surface. "Mother Penelope, if it pleases you, will you show yourself?"

The air around the trunk of the tree shifted and swirled, as if the surface suddenly radiated large waves of heat. White fog slowly began spiraling around the tree until it was completely engulfed from the roots to lower most leaves. Both Dreia and Winston – who had walked back by now – had lowered their heads in some sort of reverence as the fog parted down the middle, and out of the center of the Silver Birch, a woman Harry could only describe as made of light appeared.

Harry almost gasped looking upon the radiance of the creature before him. He likened her appearance to that of a Patronus, shimmering white and light silver from head to toe. Her silver-white hair and pale skin didn't seem to reflect any of the sunlight filtering in through the canopy above, yet they reradiated a glow of their own, and the mist of a robe she wore clung to her skin like morning dew to the moss on the northern side of a tree.

A smile graced her thin, colorless eyes and lips as she looked upon Winston and Dreia. She bent her head slightly in a show of mutual respect and then turned her attention toward Harry.

"Hoi," the Dryad said in a voice that carried lightly on the wind. "Kanys ta shiu?"

Harry narrowed his eyebrows and looked furtively at the smiling Druids. "What did she say?"

"In English, if you would, Mother," Winston said. "Young Harry does not know how to speak Gaelic."

"But he is from the other land, no?" she asked curiously.

"He is indeed, but not many speak the language of the old peoples, mother. Harry, meet Mother Penelope. Mother Penelope, Harry Potter."

The Dryad sized Harry up and down, and seemed to be studying him the space around him with great intent. "How long have you had the black?" she asked Harry through a thick accent that he couldn't quite place.

Harry's breath caught a bit in the back of his throat. "The… The _Black_?"

She seemed to realize that that was not the right choice of words to use, and said, "The black, the mourning? The sadness? It is all around you. It is… interspersed? Or…

"Intertwined," Winston put in.

"Yes, intertwined; in your aura. You are sad, right?"

'_So much for small talk,'_ Harry thought, taken aback by her directness, but still very much in awe of the creature before him. "Yes - I mean, I'll be all right," he said automatically, plastering a semi-fake smile on his face.

"Yes, I can see," she said unconvincingly. "You also have trouble. More trouble than is good. You have a great magic too, Harry Potter. But you have not seen it yet. You will. Soon, I see," she said studying the area slightly to the left, and slightly to right of him. "You know little of nature, but you fly with the wind. You will protect it, and we will protect you. You are a good almost man, Harry Potter."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and looked back and forth between the Dryad and Winston and Dreia. "It's good to meet you too," he said, slowly.

The Dryad laughed almost quirkily, sounding a bit more like a cackling bird than a human. "You know all this, yes?"

Harry nodded his head. It was quite startling for him to be read like an open book.

The Dryad looked almost affronted, but then her colorless eyes began scanning the area around him, as if searching for something it seemed she could not find.

Harry looked around himself trying to figure out exactly what it was that she was looking for, but saw nothing but earth and tarnished leaves.

The Dryad cocked her head to the side as if deciding something and said, "You have no future. The fates have given you the thread. Come, we go to the river."

She picked up her skirts that seemed to meld into her hand and then floated off to the west, while Harry watched her go, completely perplexed. "That's a Dryad."

"Mother Penelope, never one to mince words," Dreia said watching the retreating figure of the Dryad. "Well, are we going?"

Harry started moving forward with the others, trailing slightly behind the swiftly moving and determined Dryad. The path that she had chosen was more overgrown than the path leading to her Silver Birch had been, and Harry was having difficulty keeping up with her pace. Random twigs and leaves brushed against his clothing and snagged at his shoes, hindering his movements.

The Dryad had no such trouble, however. She seemed to float over the forest floor like a ghost, weaving in and out of the trees as if she'd tread these ground a thousand times before. Dreia and Winston seemed to be having little trouble either. He could tell by the side-glances they were giving and the shifting of their positions that they had not gone this way before, yet in searching the ground they missed every root, every vine and every bramble that seemed to cross their course. It was as if they knew exactly the right places to step, as if the forest was guiding them down a clear path that the Dryad had laid out for them.

Harry's feet, which seemed to him to have grown roughly four sizes too big to tread through the thick underbrush kept him moving forward with some difficulty. He had to find a way to catch up, he thought to himself, but how?

Just then a feral summer wind broke through the tight knit canopy above, and smoothly sailed across Harry's face, cooling the sweat that had accumulated on his brow and somehow giving him a brief clarity of thought.

'_The connection. Of course, they are asking for help!'_

While carefully navigating the unforgiving ground, Harry retreated into the back of his mind seeking out the string that would help him follow the others more easily. _'Elements of earth, help guide me on the path of the Dryad…'_

Harry opened his eyes and was not surprised to find the now recognizable hues of green and browns shading his vision. He was, however, in awe of the pale golden and red leaved spots of earth laid out before him in perfect harmony with the trail the Dryad was leading them down toward the river for what even purpose it held. It was not strong, but strong enough he could tell to navigate the rough terrain much easier than he had been.

Not wasting a moment longer, Harry jogged easily down the lit course bobbing through the thicket and caught up with his human companions.

"'Bout time you caught up, young Harry. Thought for a moment we'd have to come back and carry you like a babe," Winston said with a small smirk.

Harry frowned and loftily replied, "You could have just told me."

"Do you like being spoon-fed the answers?"

"No, but…"

"I thought not," Winston smiled, narrowly avoiding stumbling over a tree trunk, obviously too absorbed in his own sarcastic remarks to pay heed to the path.

Harry chuckled lightly, and continued on, paying the nettling little thought. By now he knew that Winston liked to get to the point through his sarcasm and taunting, and there was no way around his chosen method of teaching. He could be like Snape in that way, but it was friendlier and jovial. It wasn't meant to berate or to hurt, merely to point out a fact and tease a bit.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, Harry saw the faint whips of the Dryad's hair as she skirted deftly between two large Oak trees and seemed to disappear and blend in between them. Harry squinted his eyes darting between the path and the place where she'd vanished trying to make out what she was up to. He nearly lost his balance as the sound of tinkling laughter sounded off from afar, and the same swirling that he'd witnessed from the Silver Birch rounded Oaks in a green haze before twin green heads popped out of the mighty Oaks and giggled at him and his companions before disappearing in to the bark.

"There are more?" Harry asked astounded. _'Of course there are more,'_ he thought, chastising himself. "Why are those two green?"

"Because they are from the Oak, of course," Winston said as if it were common knowledge.

Dreia rolled her eyes. "As with the garden, trees each have their own spirit too, that is what a Dryad is; they are the spirits and guardians of the trees. But unlike the spirits of the plants, they can live for hundreds of years, some have been living longer than that!" She laughed with a glint of madness that Hermione often had when she was truly enveloped in her subject. "They become more like animals and humans do, taking the shape and form of that which they inhabit. Environment!" she stressed. "Mother Penelope appears silver because she inhabits the Silver Birch Tree. 'Beth' in the Ogham."

"And so the Oak would be green because they are from the Oak?"

Winston laughed and Dreia smiled. "Actually they are that color because they are young, look-" she said, pointing to the two trees the Dryads of the Oak had poked their heads through, "Very young," she said, grasping the trunk of one tree, wrapping her arms around it. "These two are probably no more than 20 years old. Babies in the land of trees…"

"Oh," Harry mumbled trying to fit all of the pieces together, "so all saplings start out green?"

"Yes, which leads to another common misconception about the little guys, Muggles and Wizards alike call them elves, or fae –"

Harry stumbled on a root as he looked up a Dreia. "I've always wondered about that," he said recovering his balance. "The fairies that you see at Hogwarts around Christmas don't match all of the legends you hear about in the Muggle world."

"Those are different kind of fairy. The fae of old have been lost to the human world. They live now only in other realms of existence like the Crone does."

Harry thought about this. He had small talks with Dreia and other members of the group in limited forms about his unusual journey to visit the old Crone. The concept of different planes of existence parallel and similar in size and shape to our own was a hard pill to swallow. Harry listened with both astonishment and wonder to hear them speak of these places as if they were no further away than a neighbor's house.

"Different beings live there, of course," Gio had said while he and Harry had worked away at their bowls. "Creatures and beings that are rarely seen in this world. Some can cross the barriers into our world, as we do into theirs."

They continued on for sometime, the silvery-white essence of the Dryad flittering and flying to and fro a stretch or two in front of them. But with the aid of the connection helping them, the denseness of the trees and unevenness did not impede their path.

It was shortly over a half an hour later when the Dryad finally slowed to a stop a short distance in front of them, and Harry could just make out the bend of a small river.

Slightly out of breath, Dreia commented, "I had no idea it was this far out."

Harry frowned. "She's never taken you this far before?"

"No, she rarely vacates her tree," Winston said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Blind faith in magical creatures of any sort was not something he was accustomed too. "And you just followed her?"

"I doubt she'd lead us astray, Harry. It's not like she's Fae from the old tales. Dryads are always honest and true, it's their nature."

Harry felt his gut twist slightly. "Ok, but what do you think she's going to do at that river? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'd assume she's going to scry. Not that I've had any luck in the art," Dreia muttered under her breath, causing a good-natured smirk to cross Winston's face. "Dryads are known for the gifts in divination."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together and continued moving forward without another word. Although he hadn't studied it in Divination class, he knew from over hearing Lavender and Parvati that scrying was a form of Divination that involved water, or a mirror. And it was the thought of Divination and mirrors that made his stomach twist in even larger knots, causing him to be completely unaware of the brilliance of the place. That is, until the sharp intake of air from his right made him take pause.

Harry's gaze moved from the forest floor and his own thoughts to a completely gob smacked Dreia. Her mouth was hanging open, revealing her tiny teeth, and her eyes were as large and round as Dobby's when Harry paid him a compliment.

Looking for himself, Harry was sure his own face took on a similar size and shape. The beauty of nature was something that, under the usual circumstances, he would pay little heed to. What nearly 16-year-old boy paid attention to these details? But these circumstances were unusual, and so he did.

A scene not unlike what Harry would imagine in a Muggle fairy-tale book unfolded before them. A small, crystal clear river ran swiftly through a severe parting in the trees, that you could just tell if you were in the mind to take a drink, would fill your mouth with cool, crisp water that would trickle down the back of your throat, quenching your thirst and reviving your soul. Mighty oaks, whispering willows, and pine mixed with other trees Harry could not recognize formed intricate and dark green patterns on the other side proudly, and the white afternoon sun at their backs bounced playfully off the river and irradiated the mists coming off of it, giving the entire scene an otherworldly feel.

Harry took a sharp intake of air, which in and of itself was a surprise. It was cool, clean, and had the smell of natural pleasant things that left him feeling relaxed, but very much aware of the wonder of such a place. In a word, it was simply stunning.

"Mother, this … I… wow…" Dreia breathed. "This place…"

The Dryad smiled and beckoned the three of them to her and turning her attention to a beautiful, still pool that sat beside the river. How it was fed, Harry couldn't tell, but what he did see was that it possessed the same clean water as the river. When they'd gathered around the pool, the Dryad stirred the pool three times in a clockwise fashion and leaned over it seemingly searching for something.

The search for whatever it seemed took much longer than Harry thought necessary. The pool had long since stilled to a perfect piece of glass despite the cool breeze that lifted their hair and played around their robes. Harry was acutely aware of the fact that his knees felt like they'd been permanently locked in Muggle vice grips for the last half century. But with only the occasional shifting of weight from his human companions, no one moved and all stared directly into the pool, waiting.

"Two years," the Dryad pronounced finally, much to Harry's initial relief before he let sink in what she has said. "You have two years before the hands of fate take the thread once more."

"Two years?" Winston asked, disbelievingly. "Is there is nothing more than…"

"There is much more, but it is …shadowed. Clouded… I can not see."

Dreia spared a glance for Harry, and said, "Thank you mother, you have been a tremendous help."

"Wait…"

"But…"

"Two more years until wha-"

"It is good to know this," Dreia stated firmly giving Harry and Winston each a stern look in turn, effectively cutting off their arguments. "You have shown us much."

The Dryad's pale eyes shown brightly as she presented them with a wicked grin and announced, "There is something other."

"And what would that be?" Harry asked warily, running a hand over his face.

"Him."

The three looked across the river in the direction her magnificent hand was pointing and there, between two trees, stood a proud and mighty stag.

"Wow-" Harry said, "I've not seen one that wasn't silver before…"

"Silver?" Winston asked behind him as Harry drew as close as possible to the edge of the river slowly and quietly, the worry and confusion erased from his thought.

"Yea… my Patronus… It's a stag. Prongs," he added as an after-thought.

"Why Prongs?" Winston asked curiously, coming up beside him.

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows, hesitating with slight irritation at all the questioning. He just couldn't keep his eyes off the shape his father was said to have taken so many times, so long ago. By now, he was used to the look of his Patronus, of course, but this was different. He felt a sort of link drawing him closer to the creature across the water that was unlike what he felt for the silvery beast that erupted from his wand to protect him from the Dementors. It was primal, instinctive, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from those of the great stag before him.

"He honors you," the voice of the Dryad whispered close to his ear, the soft smell of earth and leaves and sweet things of the forest, filling his senses. "And soon, you will know why."

"Right," was about the only thing Harry could reply with, eyes still locked with the beast. He felt certain sadness when the stag inclined his head without breaking his gaze with Harry and then disappeared back into the darkness of the forest beyond the river.

Harry stared at the spot for a moment more, and then shook his head to clear it, remembering what Winston had asked. "Prongs was the name of my father's Animagus form," he said, smiling sadly and then turning back to the spot where the stag has been and then back again.

"Your father was a stag…" Dreia repeated dumbly.

"Right, him and his friends were Animagi. Hey, er…Mother Penelope? Why did you say he was honoring me?" Harry asked now that all his gears were working in an orderly fashion.

She gave him wry smile and said through the noise of Dreia falling to her knees, "You will learn in enough time – Oh, small one, are you hurt?"

Harry turned to see Dreia shakily waving off Winston's advances as he offered to pull her upright. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm- Mother, could you lead us back through the forest? I – I'm fine! I just need water." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. "I just need to get back for a moment, and Harry you need rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

Winston pursed his lips – something he'd so far not seen the older man do, he was more likely to make a jest of the whole thing- and left a hand out for Dreia to grab anyway. There was a flicker of a glare but Dreia took it, dusting her robes off, and plastering a translucent smile on her face.

"That was most enlightening," she said with mock cheer, "shall we return?" and turned on her heel, marching purposely forward, leaving the rest in her wake.

The Dryad smiled knowingly and then flittered along behind Dreia, back into the trees while Winston had his eyebrow cocked and his eyes narrowed, glancing between Harry and Dreia's wake. "Any idea what that was all about?" he asked Harry.

"Sorry, sir, I don't."

"That would make two of us...Come young Harry, women wait for no man," he said cheerfully, grabbing Harry round the shoulders and walking him forward.

A short while later, much shorter in fact than the trip had taken into the deeper parts of the woods, they walked back into the meadow. Harry barely remembered saying goodbye to the Dryad and placing an offering of berries and silvery coins before the old Silver Birch as Winston had instructed. He was too wrapped up in all the events of the afternoon to pay much heed to where he was going.

"Evening meditation and then it should be dinner," Dreia called over her shoulder, marching on directly to the cabin. "We'll see you then," she said as she waved a hand at him over her shoulder.

"Right, see you later," Harry called to her distractedly, and since Winston was following, him as well.

Harry took his place in the middle of the meadow, laying flat on his back, with his long arms crossed beneath his head, his eyes wide at the gray, darkening sky and his mind racing with visions of the afternoon. The stag had pulled something from within him that he had not felt since the previous spring after taking a walk through Snape's thoughts. Pride. Amazement. Wonder. Feelings that he'd associated with his father and his ability to turn into such a proud and majestic animal. Feelings that he thought were forever tainted having seen his father's poor treatment of Snape in the pensieve.

There was something else too; something complexly separate and distinguishable from his father's form. At first, Harry was unsure of how to put into words what his feelings were; it felt like a bit of nausea combined with excitement and longing. It was a little while before it hit him, before it sunk it's deep penetrating teeth into him and he realized exactly how he felt.

'_It feels like I am looking at the door to the Department of Mysteries.'_

Later, Harry could have sworn it was like the great cong of a bell going off in his head, and just as it did the words the Dryad had spoken before the appearance of the stag flittered through his ears just as they had the forest. _"Two years. "You have two years before the hands of fate take the thread once more."_

He understood. He understood and he was running. Running through the meadow under the dark slate sky, pounding his way up the stairs and through the kitchen. He was almost to kitchen door when he stopped short at the sound of raised voices coming from the living room.

"Where are you going?"

"London," Dreia replied curtly as the sound of slamming doors and other things Harry couldn't distinguish filled the space under the door.

"What - Why? What's going on?" Regulus asked sounding confused. "We've only got two days-"

"His father was stag, Reggie. A stag! I can't let that kind of thing wait. I need answers now."

"Whoa, calm down pip-squeak… I don't understand…."

"Of course, you don't…. never took the time to learn that which surrounds you!" she growled as the sound of something else slammed shut, or open, Harry couldn't tell.

"Winston?" Regulus asked.

"Let's get her off first," he said quietly. "There's been some development…"

"Development?" she said laughing mechanically. "Development is strictly the wrong word… Catastrophe of monumental proportions is more like."

"Don't you think you're getting a bit carried away?"

"You know perfectly well what all this means, Winston Townsend, and don't you dare tell me to calm down! I'll be back by tomorrow morning -" There was a muffled sound of clinking metal and then a bellowed, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

The rushing sound of a blazing fire reached Harry's ears, and he knew that she'd gone.

"What did she just yell into the fire?" Harry heard Winston ask.

"Headquarters, I'd imagine. There's a Fidelius charm on the building, she told me. Effective too, I can't even remember my own parents address."

"Ah."

There was some scraping of chairs and general movement around the room that Harry could just make out.

"So what's got her knickers in a twist?" Regulus' muffled voice asked.

There was a moment of pause in which Winston did not reply, and then…

"Do you remember the legends of the Stag?"

"Yes."

"Apparently Harry's dad was an Animagus. A stag."

"James was an Animagus?" Regulus asked. There was yet another moment of silence and then Regulus inquired, "But what does that have to do with Harry?"

There was another pause and then Regulus sputtered, "Oh… Oh! And… Dear Merlin…"

"Exactly."

Regulus swore something that Harry wouldn't dare repeat in front of Mrs. Weasley, and said, "But, isn't this good news though? I'm sure if she'd –"

Winston replied morosely, "I'd think so… There is more to it that she won't tell me – says it's something to do with the Order – but she put two and three together and nearly fainted out there in the wood."

More silence echoed from the room beyond the door while Harry's heartbeat steadily increased.

"I still say you should come with us," Regulus put in. "The offer has been extended to all of you."

"I know, I know. We may not have much choice after this," Winston sighed. "Supper should be ready and I should tell young Harry out there that he's sleeping with someone else this night."

Harry slipped away from the library as quickly and quietly as his legs would carry him while the weight of the world settled in his knees. The house flew by in a blur and before he knew it he was in the middle of the meadow, the rising storm bubbling and brewing over his head. He kicked off his shoes and planted his feet in the grass hoping some of the grounding techniques he had been taught would help him to quell the rising bile in his throat. He looked to the heavens, taking in a deep breath raising his arms parallel with his body just as it started to rain.

* * *

It's been awhile, and one crazy spring. But finally I have managed to finish this chapter, and hope you enjoy it! And thank you to those who have reviewed so far. I really wish I could answer your review here at the bottom, but as it is against the rules, I will try to answer them on my profile page. 

As always, I own nothing, Please read and review!


	10. The Crystal Cave, Part 1

**The Crystal Cave, Part 1 **

"Regulus! That's who!" Harry cried. "How on earth could you have let them do that to me?"

Dreia held back a badly disguised smirk and had the decency to lower her head.

Harry balled his fists tightly. "Couldn't you have taught that spell to someone _other_ than him?"

"I didn't teach him," Dreia said softly with a giant smile and a mock look of innocence.

"You didn't teach him? Well… then… then… Why couldn't who ever taught Regulus the spell cast it? I mean, you know how I feel about being in the same room with him. It's-" Harry stuttered.

"What did you dream about?"

"Wha…?" Harry swallowed hard and took a mental step back. "I... I… What?"

"What did you dream about?" she asked causally, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, still suppressing a laugh.

Harry set his jaw stiffly. He wasn't about to admit that he had actually _enjoyed_ the dream he was so heartedly objecting too. "Sirius. And Regulus, when they were boys."

"Ah," she said standing up fully and clasping her hands behind her back, biting on her lower lip. They were in the library. A small, cramped dusty room covered from floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall with books of every shape, size and age. It hung just off the left of the stairs in a little alcove that upon first inspection, you would have believed to be nothing more than a closet. Harry was surprised to learn of its existence having been told numerous times that Druid magic was mostly oral in tradition. He'd only had a brief glance or two at the room since he began his stay, but now, with unpleasantness of having to board with Regulus for the night, he was in no mood to inspect the many books upon the shelves and stacked high in the lone brown armchair.

"You're alright though? The spell went well?"

Harry combed his fingers through his hair, and attempted to blow some of the confusion he felt out with a breath of air. He was so sure that he was going to let her know how angry he was with her for letting Regulus of all people be her backup plan, that now that he didn't have the option, he didn't know which way to go.

"It went alright, I guess. I dreamt the dream he sent me and nothing more," he said.

"Good. I am glad to hear it," she replied, studying the books on one of the shelves.

"How did he know though? I thought he wasn't a Druid?" Harry asked.

Dreia stiffened slightly, but said offhandedly, "Oh, I never said it was Druid magic."

'_Not. Druid. Magic.'_ Harry thought back to the night he'd first arrived and tried to remember what she had said. It was all a bit blurry, considering his mental state and that it was all so new. "You said ancient magic. Isn't that the same thing?"

"Ancient magic and Druid magic are two different things, Harry," Dreia replied loftily.

"But that still doesn't answer…He's the one that taught you?"

"You can't have expected for him to have come from one of the oldest pureblooded families in England and not know something of ancient magic, Harry. He passed quite a lot of it on to me." She tapped her finger on her chin just then, scanning the titles of the ancient tomes looking for something

"Ah, here you are…"

She pulled down a ragged looking, cracked leather bound book and began scanning the pages. When she had reached her desired page, she began mumbling an enchantment that Harry could not decipher which made her hair blow lightly about her head and the pages of the old book flutter. As her lips ceased to move, Harry heard a distinctive click and the groan of old springs.

Dreia returned the book to its resting place and looking quite serious, began to push the bookcase into the floor with the tips of her fingers.

Curious, Harry slipped up just behind her to take a closer look. But the sight he found was less than astonishing. Indeed, he was fairly certain the ordinary looking wooden trunk that sat behind the bookcase could have been hidden in plain sight and no one would have been the wiser.

"What's in the trunk?" Harry asked causally.

"Your immediate future," Dreia said, huddling over the box and clicking open the trunk.

"Oh, well that's good. We wouldn't want to keep it a mystery would we?" Harry said annoyed.

Dreia pulled something out of the trunk, turned around, and revealed a rather thin looking robe of unbleached cotton placing it gently on the little table next to the arm chair.

"This is the robe worn by all of our initiates," she said, standing up and facing him squarely. "It has been the way for over 210 years. 127 men and women have worn this garment before you, and by gods, I hope at least twice that many after you."

Harry stared at the robe. "Has it been washed?"

Dreia's mouth dropped open like a great cod and stared at him for a moment before sputtering, "Yes… Harry… it has been laundered. What do you think we are? Heathens?"

"Well-" Harry started.

"_Never mind!_ Never mind…"

Harry laughed nervously and asked, "So, it's tonight then?"

"Mhmmm." She nodded, turning back to the bookcase. She opened the book once more, muttered something quickly, and the bookcase slid easily back into place. "In fact, it's time."

"Here," she said, handing him the robe carefully. "Bathe as Winston has instructed you, dress in this and someone will come fetch you where you are through. We must prepare now, so good luck!" Before Harry could even blink, Dreia grasped him firmly around the shoulders in a warm hug and then backed away, beaming at him.

Harry's throat went dry. He'd expected a bit more than a simple embrace and wish for luck. He had thought there would be some instruction, some thing more than the quick speech about the bath and this scruffy old –was that blood there? – robe. He guessed maybe there wasn't enough time with her running off to London…

He had promised himself he wouldn't ask. He knew he already had any answer he was going to get the moment she floo'd away to Grimmuald place the evening before. But something opened his mouth and he was asking before he knew it, "What is so important about the stag?"

Dreia stopped where she was and turned slowly to face him. "Trade secret," she said with a guilty smile. "I can't tell you… not just yet." She sighed. "There are some things you will have to learn for yourself. Dumbledore will explain –"

"Dumbledore explains little," Harry countered.

Dreia shrugged. "I'm just the messenger. But come, you have other things to worry about. Like surviving the night!" She smiled in what Harry was sure was reassurance, but did little to help take the edge off her pronouncement, and disappeared swiftly out the doorway.

"Right," he said to no one in particular and resigning himself to his ignorance – at least for the moment – Harry made his way to the guest bedroom on the second floor.

The bathroom itself was nothing special. An ordinary tub, toilet, small sink and walls of pale yellow was all it had contained during his short but intense stay; a common guest bathroom for washing up. The sight that met his eyes now was something else entirely.

The sink was absent, as was the loo and the tub. In its place was a large circular pool of grey colored stone that sat low to the ground looking rather like an old well. The water that filled it was as still as a pane of glass. Twigs, berries, and herbs seemed forever frozen as they floated silently on top of it. The room was as dark as night, save for a few lit candles floating near the ceiling that reflected softly off the surface of the water. And curiously enough, not even the afternoon sunshine from the adjacent bedroom passed the threshold into this dark tomb.

Winston had warned him earlier in the day that the pre-ritual cleansing was an important aspect of the ritual itself and to expect some changes to his bathing quarters. Harry thought that perhaps there might be a different bar of soap to use, or maybe a special towel or something equally mundane; certainly not the transformation that he saw now. The room was so different, Harry felt as though he should have been looking into the Room of Requirements.

Harry put his things to one side of the room, closed the door quietly, and discarded his clothing before slipping into the bath.

The sensation of the water was one that put all thoughts and quarrels in Harry's mind at ease. The water was warm. Not hot or even mild but warm like the touch of human skin. It felt silky, smooth, and filled him with a great sense of contentment and a sense of peaceful tranquility.

The pool was not deep like the one he had visited in the Prefect's bathroom in his fourth year at Hogwarts. It was filled enough for Harry to sit upright comfortably on the bottom and have the water reach the top of his chest. He inhaled deeply the scent of the herbs and twigs that floated mutely on the surface, and let his limbs relax beside him as his mind drifted to nothing in particular.

He stayed that way for quite some time, floating comfortably in the darkened abyss. The soft waters surrounding his body held him gently and caused a relaxation so complete he felt as though he were drifting easily between sleep and consciousness.

Somewhere behind his head he felt a soft breeze play in his hair and around his neck. He knew even before he saw the man in long white robes with his face hidden in the shadows of his hood that his time had come.

Harry's throat constricted just a little, as he reached for the towel he was offered, pulling himself out of the bath and over to the old robe.

He dressed quickly, and although the nervous prospect of what he was about to go through danced in the back of his mind, the sense of peace instilled in him by the pool kept him calm.

He turned to the hooded man who said, "Harry Potter, is it still your wish to make this journey? To prove your way into the brother and sisterhood of the Druids? To stand beside them? To defend with your life all of nature and mankind? To always protect and honor our ways?"

"Yes," Harry said without hesitation. He knew in his heart that he might never truly be one of them; that his place was an honorary role in their ranks. But he had decided somewhere in the course of the last week that he would be daft to abuse the honor he was given by these people; to count himself, however distant, among this spiritual, magical community. It would help him in the coming confrontation, to be sure.

A second taller man appeared silently next to the first as if the smoke and light from the candles above had transformed in to a second human form. He carried a black swatch of cloth over his arm and a simple strand of twine.

"Kneel," he said, and Harry, having been prepared for this by Winston that afternoon went down on bended knee.

The second man blindfolded him, and bound his hands together behind his back securely.

Harry felt himself being lifted to standing position and then led with naked feet through the house, down the porch stairs and across the meadow.

It occurred to him now that he wasn't entirely sure what time it was, or in what direction he was headed. He felt as though he must be going west. West was the most likely choice as that was where the wind was coming from and the direction of the forest that he now felt beneath his feet.

They walked for sometime, or at least, he thought it was walking. He was sure that three or four times he had felt his feet leave the ground, but he wasn't sure how that was accurate. His feet were moving as if he were walking forward, but from time to time it felt as though he were walking on air. His feet touched not twig, or leaf, and yet what ever was under his feet was just as tangible and real as any floor.

They turned direction many times. So many times in fact, that Harry lost count. Sometimes they would take three steps forward and then three to the right. Or perhaps three to the left--he wasn't entirely confident. Twice they had spun in clockwise circles for no apparent reason and then started off again.

Harry's feet--leaving the earth at times or not--were starting to tire. He wished they'd stop and let him get on with it. Show him whatever obstacle he would have to get through to prove he was worthy enough to join the circle. It wasn't as if he'd never done this sort of thing before.

Unbidden, the third task of the Tri-Wizard tournament and the look of astonishment on Cedric's face as Harry told him they would both take the cup flashed before his eyes. Harry clenched his fists in his bindings and swallowed his aches hard.

They went on a bit further, turning and misdirecting the entire way. Before Harry had realized, it they had stopped and his blindfold and bindings had been removed.

The two white-robed men before him regarded him for a moment before the shorter one said, "If you wish to join, your task is thus: make your way back through the forest to the ring of stones and join your brothers and sisters there. You have until sunrise."

And without another word, the two men faded away into the darkness of the night.

Harry looked around him. Gloomy, towering trees stood in every direction, and owls hooted somewhere high above. The full moon had already past, but he could tell from the little light that filtered in through the canopy that it must have been very late in the evening. Of course, the rumble from his belly could have told him that anyway, but these days it seemed to rumble at the drop of a hat.

"Great," Harry said out loud, with a sigh of resignation.

He felt around the worn old robe looking for his wand so he could light his way, but with a jolt, he remembered that it was still sitting on top of his clothing back in the bathroom.

"Great!" he said again, cursing himself and took another look around at his surroundings. He felt naked now in what he assumed was the middle of the forest with no discernable means of defense. Not even a way to transfigure a twig or leaves into something to cover his bare feet.

Harry clinched his jaw and looked around himself once more. The only thing for him to do was figure out how to get out of the wood without running into anything too nasty and up to the hill.

He looked in the direction the moonlight was filtering in, and the few stars he could see through the thick canopy above him, and, setting the most reasonable course, began making his way through the thick underbrush keeping a watchful eye out for anything that even slightly resembled a path.

The chill in the light, night breeze kept Harry's arm crossed against his chest and his naked feet moving swiftly through the forest terrain. Through thick brush, towering trees, and black shadows Harry trod, his eyes ever scanning the dense and quiet wood. Animals, coloured by darkness with moonlit bright eyes studied his progress from tree hallows and dense patches of grass, sometimes following him at a distance, sometimes running, hidding in the underbrush next to his chosen path.

The hours grew later and later as Harry made his way through the wood. A fine mist had developed, twisting its way above the forest floor like a spectral snake that made the old robe Harry wore damp, sticking to his already cold body like a second skin.

Harry spotted a small brook up ahead of him and decided to stop for a moment to rest. His naked feet were wary, and scratched, and despite the mist in the air his mouth dry. He cupped his hands in the water for a drink before he settled himself on the bank and closed his eyes. He was tired. It must be around 2 o'clock in the morning he decided, and not an end in sight to the wood.

He had been trying to figure out for the last half and hour how exactly the two men had taken him as far as they had, in as comparatively little time. And why was the forest suddenly turning against him? The branches of the trees seemed to position themselves into odd angles, obscuring his view. The bushes caught in his clothing when he was sure he was not close enough to be caught and just when he thought he'd found the right path he found that instead of moving forward out of the wood, he was in fact moving backwards deeper into the forest.

It seemed no matter how he turned, no matter how far he went, he found himself walking in circles and sometimes spirals all around the forest. The trees were still very dense and it was all he could do to guide himself by the stars and the moon. He had tried, as he had the day before, to ask the elements for help, but he quickly learned that they were leading him more firmly away from the correct path than he was leading himself.

Harry gritted his teeth and frustration. This was part of the test, he knew, but what was the point of it?

Just as Harry pondered this last thought, a shadow passed downstream catching his attention. He looked up sharply, his vivid green eyes widening and jaw dropping open considerably. The yearning desire that had filled him the afternoon before by the river filled him again and he nearly fell in to the brook in his haste to stand and regard the majestic beast before him.

The form of the Great Stag was encompassed with a moon bright halo, and his stiff muscular features shifted not one inch as he observed Harry with his liquid black eyes.

Harry met his gaze equally, not daring to break the unexplainable standoff between them.

But then something happened, something that in later days, Harry would ponder in hopes of gleaming some facet of truth as to what possessed him that night. The Great Stag moved his rear leg backward, and Harry, with every inch of his body crying out and not willing to let him get away this time, lunged.

The Great Stag waited until Harry was inches from him and took to the rough terrain of the forest. Harry followed him as fast as his human legs would carry him.

The air whipped past his face brutally and his heart beat out a rhythmic tune sharply against his breastbone as he struggled to keep pace with the forest king. Sweat ran in swift currents down his body despite the cool air and his feet already sore from the nights events bore terrible gashes soaking his feet in tiny rivers of blood.

But Harry kept moving.

He kept a respectable pace with the Stag that was running gracefully, almost tauntingly before him.

That which possessed him wanted that Stag.

And so they ran. Ran through thick underbrush, skirted past low-lying branches, and dodged over fallen logs and forgotten trees.

The stag veered left and then veered right as if trying to shake the young wizard from his trail. But Harry's legs kept in stride and soon, much sooner than he would have anticipated, the soft beat of a dozen drums reached his ears and the Stag broke free of the forest.

* * *

_A/N: Well, the only thing I can say is, don't hurt me. :D And the second bit of this chapter will be worth waiting for. Reviews always, always make me smile, and I hope you enjoyed it!_


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